What Lies Beneath
by BBIRedDi
Summary: Robert Romano's personal and professional lives collide when his girlfriend Melora ends up at County General. Sequel to "Separate", set in early Season 7 (December 2000).
1. Truck vs Bug

[Quick note: This is sort of a sequel to the previous story, _Separate_ , which features the same characters and introduces the character of Melora Weir (an original character), who is involved with Romano. This occurs somewhere in early Season 7, so roughly early December 2000.]

 **What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 1: Truck Versus Bug

"Hey, Chief. What's up?" Dave Malucci had just gotten to work at the ER around 1 pm, and saw Kerry Weaver at the white board. "I heard there was a two-car collision?" He glanced over at Jerry Markowitz, asking the large man, "Why is it freezing in here?"

Jerry answered first, just having polished off the last of a Snicker's candy bar. "Because it's December and our heaters will never work right?"

Kerry chimed in next. "The collision wasn't a bad one, by our standards. No LOC. Truck versus old VW Bug. Guess who won?"

"Not the Bug," Malucci responded with a shake of the head. "My cousin used to keep his together with pieces of old Coke cans."

"Dr. Lewis is looking after the truck driver." Kerry pointed to the white board. "Bug driver's in Exam 2. Abby's in with her now."

Malucci noted that Kerry said "she" – ooo, a female. Perhaps a young, attractive female? One could hope. "Gotcha, Chief."

As luck would have it, the driver in question was both young and good looking. She was petite with long light blond hair falling loosely about her shoulders, and was already wearing the requisite exam gown. The day was looking up, he thought. But for now, he knew to keep it professional. Abby handed him the chart with the woman's vitals and medical history. "Hey there, Ms. – " He glanced at the name on the chart. _Melora Weir_. "Ms. Weir. I'm Dr. Dave."

The young woman raised a dubious eyebrow. "Dr. Dave? Really?"

Abby rolled her eyes at the young resident. "Dr. Malucci."

"Sounds so formal," Malucci shrugged with a smile. He slid into doctor mode then, glancing at the chart. "So, I hear your Bug got smooshed?" Her vitals looked normal, aside from an elevated heartbeat and a slight tremor, which was probably just post-accident adrenaline come-down.

Melora nodded ruefully. "Basically. Poor thing never stood a chance. Whole front end folded in. I guess I'm lucky he didn't hit me at a different angle, or that might be me that got smooshed."

He noted that she had no visible facial lacerations and wore no c-collar from the ambulance, which meant she was able to walk away from the accident. "How fast were you going?"

"Maybe ten or fifteen miles an hour; traffic was just starting to move and the roads are icy."

"And the other guy?"

"Probably five or ten? He decided at the last minute that he wanted to make a left turn, apparently. Into me."

"Jerk," Malucci commented, checking her pupils. They were reactive to light and he definitely didn't smell any booze on her. She was well-spoken and alert.

"Did you hit your head at all?"

She shook her head. "One of those times that it pays to be short, I guess."

"Were you wearing a seatbelt?"

Melora nodded. "Yeah. But it's an old car – it just has one of those lame airplane-style lap belts."

Malucci smiled a little, making a note on the chart. "Why do they even bother with those things? Airlines can afford decent seatbelts, right? How about your chest and abdomen – any impacts?"

"Yeah, the steering wheel smacked right up against me. I can definitely feel it. I'm surprised I didn't break anything. I also have some low back pain, probably from the seat belt. I'm pretty bruisey."

"Can you remove your gown for a sec? I just want to make sure there's nothing too bad going on." She did, and damned if there wasn't a nearly perfect half-circle bruise pattern spanning across the upper portion of her chest. "Ouch. No pain around the ribs?"

"A little," she confessed, adding, "Nothing sharp. I've gotten fractured ribs before, and it doesn't feel that bad."

Malucci noted some cuts and abrasions on her arms which the paramedics had already tended to, along with more deep bruising along her left arm and thigh. "What happened there?" He motioned for her to go ahead and put the gown back on.

As she pulled the gown back on, she explained, "My left arm got a bit munched when the driver's side door pitched inward. I got some cuts from all the broken glass, but I don't think anything is broken." She paused, adding, "I don't have insurance, so I'm kind of used to just dealing with it myself if it's not broken or on fire."

Malucci chuckled a little at that. "I heard that. If I didn't work here, I'd probably be the same way. Can you extend both arms out to the side for me?"

Melora could only extend the left arm about halfway, while the right arm was fine. "Ow. My shoulder and my elbow won't let me." She sighed. "I guess my show tonight won't be happening."

"You in a band?" His interest was peaked.

"Yeah. Cello. I kind of need to move both my arms for that."

"Wow. Cello? Cool." He'd have to ask her more about that later; sounded promising. "Try moving your forearm from the elbow."

She tried to extend her arm from the elbow, but it was sore the further she moved it. "That's about as far as it's going, Doc."

Malucci didn't like the sound of the steering wheel impact on the chest, coupled with the seatbelt jolt. "Hmm. Okay. All in all, it could have been a lot worse. I want to run an x-ray of your left arm as well as your spine and neck, and get a blood and urine sample. Abby?" He'd wait for the results before making a call about getting a CT scan. If Greene was the attending, he'd just order one straight away, but with Weaver running the show, he knew he'd need a solid reason to do it rather than simple precaution.

Abby was looking at the medical history that the patient filled out, though. "Umm, Dr. Dave? Take a look at this." She pointed out the name Melora had written under Emergency Contact - _Dr. Robert Romano_.

Malucci just squinted at it. Must be a different one – nope, that was the phone extension for Surgery. "Huh. Hey, is this…Is Dr. Romano like, a relative of yours?"

Melora smiled, looking guilty. "No. He's a close friend." She didn't want to directly "out" them unless necessary. He liked keeping his private life more or less invisible to the staff here, and she understood. "You didn't call him, did you?"

"No," Abby told her. "Would you like us to?"

"No!" Melora told them. "If you call, he'll come down and there'll be a big…thing." A big, panic-driven angry thing. "If he's worried, he gets stressed and if he gets stressed, it's just not pretty."

Malucci let out a little laugh. "That's putting it mildly," he remarked, shaking his head. He knew what "close friend" usually meant. The idea of this woman with the much reviled Chief of Staff was perplexing, to say the least. "No sweat. Your secret is safe with us. But the brace for your arm and your cuts and bruises and totaled car will probably give it away."

Melora knew that, and nodded. "I'll go up and see him when I'm done here. Trust me, it's better than calling him down here. If he sees me walking, he'll know it can't be too bad. The slow reveal is the best approach."

Malucci and Abby exchanged looks and a smile. "Oh, I believe you. Okay, Abby will take you to Radiology and I'll check back in on you once the tests come back. Nice meeting ya, Ms. Weir."

"Back atcha, Dr. Dave," she grinned, relieved that no worried Robert was about to swoop in and kick up a fuss.

As they made their way to Radiology, Melora asked Abby, who seemed to be trying to keep a look of good-natured disinterest on her face, "So, Robert says he used to run the ER a while back."

"That was before my time," Abby replied. "Dr. Weaver's been ER Chief since I started, so we only see Dr. Romano when he's doing surgery consults, usually. I hear he's an excellent surgeon."

"That's the word on the street," Melora agreed, trying not to let the aches slow her down too much.

It took about an hour to run the x-rays and the labs, and another hour and a half before the results came back. Malucci was annoyed that there wasn't anything too obviously wrong with her x-rays. He remarked to Abby by the front desk, "No blood in the urine. Nothing too bad on the x-ray. I still want to run a CT on her chest – those bruises look deep."

Kerry overheard and joined them. "Any chest pain? Vomitting? Nausea?"

Malucci grasped onto the chest pain option as a possible ticket to a CT. "Pain from the injury, with deep bruising."

"You know what I mean. Not contusion pain. Is she symptomatic of internal injury?"

He had to admit it. "No. Seems okay. But…" He wasn't sure if he should add the next part or not. Would it help or hurt his case? "She's got Dr. Romano listed as her emergency contact."

This gave Kerry pause. "Really?" She seemed to consider this for a moment. "What's her insurance like?"

"Non-existent." Malucci knew it – no CT now for sure. Not without at least some vomiting or chest pain.

Kerry shook her head. "No CT without signs of internal damage. If she's not running a fever or feeling internal pain, then let's finish processing her and send her on her way."

Malucci paused, a little uncomfortable with this. "If anything happens, she's my patient, Chief. It'll my head on Romano's platter."

Kerry ruffled at this. "I am your immediate supervisor, Dr. Malucci, not Dr. Romano. His friends get treated exactly the same as every other patient who comes through our door. No unnecessary tests. Understand?"

"Yeah, I got it. No CT." Once Kerry walked away, Malucci looked at Abby, who rolled her eyes at him as the pair walked down the hall. "You shouldn't have said that about not wanting to risk it," Abby told with a grin. "She needs to know you fear her more than him."

"C'mon. Don't be so hard on the Chief. She's good people." Abby shot Malucci a dubious look and he gave her a perplexed laugh. "What? What'd I say?"

Malucci met briefly with Melora, showing her the x-ray slides. "So, the good news is, there's no detectable internal bleeding, and your x-rays came up clean. Which you're more than likely okay. You'll probably be really stiff and sore by tomorrow, so I recommend you keep off your feet and let your body heal for a full week. Your arm's just got a sprain, so come back for some PT at the end of the week, and we should have you back playing cello another week after that." He handed her a prescription for the physical therapy and some mild painkillers. "And keep me posted when your band plays – I'll get the County Crew together for a night out."

"Thanks – I'll do that!" she smiled, shoving the papers into her oversized tote bag. "You guys have been great."

"Last word: If you have any nausea, vomiting, abdominal or chest pain, and especially if you develop a fever, get back in here pronto." He almost wanted to add that he'd have preferred to run a CT scan, but it made no sense to mention it now. If they couldn't do it, they couldn't do it. "I'm serious. Okay?"

Again, Melora smiled, not really thinking it was possible that she might feel worse than the aches and pains she was currently feeling. "Okay, okay. Noted."

"Good. Take care," he said, and she headed off towards the elevators. _Here I am, breaking the no drop-ins at work rule_ , she thought to herself. Well, at least she had a good reason.

She got off at Surgery, and the desk attendant looked up at Melora, who was now wearing an arm brace under her oversized black sweater, but otherwise looked relatively normal. Jeans, Doc Martens boots, excessive rings and bracelets…the usual. "Is Dr. Romano in?" she asked.

The nurse called Romano in his office, letting him know he had a visitor. Soon enough, he was emerging from an office down the hall, a look of total surprise on his face. He was still wearing his surgical gown from a surgery he'd just finished. "Mel!" His look of surprise shifted to half a smile, but then to concern when he saw the bulky shape of the arm brace beneath her pullover. "Hey, what happened? You okay? C'mon, let's go to my office."

Once they were closed up in his office, Melora recounted her afternoon for him, showing him the few papers that she had that might fill in the things she couldn't quite remember. He studied them all carefully, but knew he'd need to look at her chart to really get a better picture. He looked for the name of the ER doctor she saw: Malucci. "Huh. I could have sworn his name was Maltucci," he commented.

Looking up at her, he could see she was in good shape, all things considered. He muffled his worry under the veneer of being a concerned physician. "No head injury? No loss of consciousness?" He peered at her eyes now, but as a doctor, looking for any abnormalities.

Melora shook her head. "Nope. Just lots of bruises and a sprained arm. And I'm told I need to stay off my feet for a week, and that I'll probably really start to hurt tomorrow." He was standing close, looking her over, so to jar him out of doctor mode, she leaned in and gave him a small kiss.

Robert, startled, smiled a little and said, "Well, you sure seem okay. " He slipped his hands to her waist, allowing himself to relax a little. "Did you get the 'script filled yet? I can take care of it for you." He knew she didn't have insurance and would have to pay full price out-of-pocket.

"That would be pretty awesome," she confessed. She hated asking him to pay for anything, but with the loss of the car, plus any money from working or playing this week, Melora knew she'd have to minimize all expenses for a while. "They already gave me one dose downstairs, so I think I'm good for a while."

Robert nodded. "I guess I don't have to ask what happened to the Deathtrap?"

"Poor Bug got smooshed, as Dr. Malucci put it."

"Good!" He'd always hated the idea of her driving that glorified tin can in weather like this. "You can use the Volvo till we get you something else, if you need it."

"The Gretel car?" Romano kept a second car, a Volvo wagon used mostly for taking Gretel on excursions. It was so much bigger than what she was used to driving, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Yeah. It may be kind of Soccer Mom, but it's very safe."

"Thanks." Mel smiled and gave him a long hug. "The people in the ER were nice, by the way. Dr. Malucci was very friendly."

"I bet he was," Robert replied dourly. "He pays special attention to all beautiful women in his care. Was a nurse present?"

Melora rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yep. Abby something. She was nice, too. Didn't say a single bad thing about you," she chuckled.

Robert cocked his head. "Why would I come up?"

"You're my emergency contact. Congratulations?" She gave him a tentative look as he put it together.

"Yeah?" Robert knew that no secret was safe with Malucci, but oddly he wasn't at all upset that the word would soon be out. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Malucci hitting on Mel; not even that guy would be stupid enough to go after the boss' girlfriend. And honestly, he kind of liked the idea that they now knew he was capable of making a woman like Mel happy. "I would be honored to be your emergency contact. Have I unseated Serena for the title?" he asked, referring to her roommate, band mate and best friend.

She nodded. "It's okay. She's never home to answer the damn phone, anyway." Melora was relieved that he wasn't disturbed that their secret may well be out now. Maybe that meant he was more secure in what they had. They'd been together for almost a year now, after all.

"Mind if I take a look at your chart? I want to second guess everything."

She laughed; at least he had a sense of humor about it. "Absolutely. And thank you for asking."

"I assume they cheaped out on you?" He expected as much from Weaver's ER.

"What do you mean?"

"Tests. You're uninsured, so you probably only were approved for the bare minimum. X-ray, blood and urine." She was asymptomatic, so it didn't trouble him too much. "I just want to make sure they didn't overlook anything. Speaking of which, can I take a look at your arm?"

She nodded, gently easing her arm up out of the sleeve with Robert's help. He could see it really pained her to do this manouever, and he regretted asking her to do it. Once her arm was free, he could see the hints of more bruising running up her arm and her torso, currently draped beneath the sweater. He winced. "Jesus," he muttered, suddenly wondering what more was there that he couldn't see. "What have you got going on under there?" he asked, touching the sweater.

Mel laughed at how he put it. "Just the usual circus. Wanna see?"

"You have to ask?"

She gave him a look, lifting her sweater so he could see the extent of the damage. "I didn't think I'd be stripping on my first visit to your office. Sorry it's not a sexier bra."

He barely even heard her as he took in the extensive bruising. "You got slammed by the steering wheel?" That struck him first. This accident could have ended much worse, he thought to himself, all good humor gone.

"Mmmm-hmm." Melora knew that this was coming; it was why she wanted him to see her up and about and joking before showing him this. It was also why she hadn't wanted him to see her in the ER. He'd have worried, and she hated being the cause of worry for him. He already worried for her playing late shows in arguably dangerous neighborhoods, not to mention the fact that she lived in an arguably dangerous area close to the hospital. "It looks worse than it is."

He gave her a look. "Don't minimize. I'm the doctor and I'll do the minimizing around here, thanks." He could see more of the bandages now, where the glass had cut her. "No stitches?"

"No stitches," she confirmed. "Nothing broken. I was only going like, ten miles an hour."

"Don't make me bring up the laws of physics and motion, Mel." The doctor in him wanted to get a look at the rest of her to view the damage. "Can I see your abdomen?"

"More romantic words have never been spoken," she joked, adding, "Can you lock that door?" She drew the line at someone walking in with her jeans *and* sweater half-off. She slipped her right arm back into the sweater while he locked the door, and then she unzipped her jeans and slid them down just around her hips, exposing further bruising around where the seatbelt wrenched her.

"Dammit," he muttered again, the idea of how bad it was and how much worse it could have been. "Did they do a lavage?"

"I don't even know what that is."

He remembered she wasn't treated as a trauma case, and asked, "But they did a urine test?"

"Yup." She nodded, pulling her jeans back up, fully clothed once again. She could see that something was worrying him – should she be worried, too? "What's wrong?"

"The impact against your chest while your lower body was held in place by the seatbelt, basically. Your organs may all be fine, but there's a lot of other things that can be affected."

"My ribs and chest are fine," Melora insisted. "And so are my organs, thank you."

Robert gave her a look. "Look, I'm not insulting you or your body. I love you. And your body. It's my job to look out for you, especially when you're being treated here." She seemed appeased by this. "Mel, you're probably fine. I just want you to get every possible test to rule out damage that an x-ray can't pick up."

"Dr. Dave said that as long as I'm not experiencing any nausea or fever or chest pain, I should be fine."

"'Dr. Dave'?" Robert rolled his eyes at this. "Well, I feel better already, if that's what Dr. Dave said," he added dismissively. He had to admit, though, Malucci was right to say it. "Can you indulge me just for a minute, though? I want to run downstairs and look at your file. You want to stay in here or in the surgery waiting room?" He had a surgery in half an hour, but maybe she wouldn't mind waiting for him.

"I'd rather just go home," she confessed. It was sweet that he was concerned, but frankly, she had a lot of phone calls to make and was starting to feel drowsy from the painkiller. "Can you just come over after work? You can doctor it up as much as you want then. I really just want to change into my jammies and have a nap."

It was a fair enough request, and he nodded. At least she wasn't protesting his looking more closely at her files. "Sure. That actually makes more sense. I'll bring you some Thai soup and more painkillers around 7, okay?" He took out his wallet and handed her a ten dollar bill. "Take a cab home. Not the bus."

"If you insist," she said with a smile; she'd never argue that, especially not today. "Thanks." She gave him a kiss.

"I'll walk you out," he told her, no longer caring if people knew about them. The cat was out of the bag, so why take pains to hide it. He also just wanted to see her safely on her way home. They headed out towards the elevator, his hand resting at the small of Melora's back as they walked. They passed Shirley and Kit at the elevator, and he noticed Shirley's raised eyebrow as she greeted in passing, "Dr. Romano."

"Shirley," he replied, matching her tone. As the doors slid closed, they heard giggles breaking out in the distance.

Melora couldn't help grinning at the exchange once they were in the elevator. "That was a loaded hello."

"Welcome to my world, Mel. You're in it now."

TBC


	2. The Consult

**What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 2: The Consult

Once Melora was safely in a cab and on her way home, Robert returned to the ER, where he found Malucci joking around with Carter and a very pregnant Chen near the admit desk. "Slow moment?" he greeted. Chen immediately seemed terribly interested in something behind the counter.

"Dr. Romano," greeted Carter succinctly; he and Robert had not really gotten back onto solid footing since his addiction issues. And while he'd never admit it, Robert still held Carter responsible for Lucy Knight's death on some level.

Robert still had trouble seeing Carter back at work, and chose to ignore him for now, although he did see fit to throw a nod of acknowledgement his way before addressing Malucci. "Dr. Malucci, can you spare a moment?"

Malucci had been waiting for this. He'd seen Romano walking Melora out a minute ago and had braced himself for whatever was about to happen. "Sure." They stepped into an empty exam room, and Romano asked, "Hey, I'd like to see Melora Weir's chart, if you have it handy? I have her permission."

"It's at Admit. Everything okay?"

"So far, yes. I'm assuming there was no CT scan run?"

So far, so good. No accusations yet. "Dr. Weaver nixed it." He paused. "I would've preferred to run one, but there was nothing to back it up. Just…" He shrugged, unable to really pinpoint why. "Just my eyes, I guess."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "I know what you mean. I saw it, too."

"I tried to spot something that could justify a CT. You know, a shadow or a bright spot. But there was nothing."

Robert nodded. "I'll take a look and see if there's anything that might help get us a CT. But I have to admit, Kerry's correct about the guidelines. I probably would have taken the same stand, if it was anybody else." He started to exit the room, but paused to say, "Thanks for looking after her. Maybe you're not a total screw-up, Malucci."

"Thanks for getting my name right," Malucci replied with a smile, momentarily emboldened by the realization that he wasn't about to be unjustly chewed out. "And it was my pleasure. She's a sweet lady."

"Don't push your luck, Dr. Dave." With that, Robert made his way to Admit and helped himself to Melora's file. He took the x-ray films to a lightboard in Curtain Area 3 and took a quick look. He felt some relief after looking at the thorax. Her ribs were fine, the lungs were clear which meant likely no edema was present. The aorta seemed more visible than one might normally expect, which caused a little bit of concern. Did she mention any back pain? He glanced at the chart – yes, there it was. Lower back pain – possibly caused by seat belt contusion. Or…the other possibility was thoracic aortic aneurism. But that was rare and didn't progress that fast, usually. _Unless there was already something there and this aggravates it enough to rupture_. _And an aortic dissection was just a few steps away from pulmonary embolism…_ That did eat at him. Still, it was impossible to say from an x-ray. If he'd seen this while Mel was still here, he might have pushed harder for a CT, or at least asked for a family history. But her parents died relatively young and possibly before any underlying heart issues could make themselves known.

At least there was no blood in the urine and her chems were normal. Reluctantly, he returned the chart to the pile at Admit and returned to Surgery; he had to prepare for an angioplasty.

Back at Melora's apartment, she set about making some tea and calling around to tell her work that she wouldn't be able to wait tables for a week, as well as calling her insurance to put a claim in for her wrecked car. Then she tried to track down Serena to let her know that she wouldn't be able to play tonight or for the next week or two. She was having no luck tracking her down, and her other roommate and band mate, Anastastia, wasn't home, either.

At the kitchen table, she sipped at her tea and tried to sort out her budget, which was really going to be strained without income this week. She knew Robert would offer to float her some cash, but she hated taking money from him. He might be able to afford it, but she didn't want to feel indebted to him or make things feel uneven. But by next week, she'd be missing her tip money and –

An intense and sudden pain in her chest gripped her then, forcing her to cry out. The pain radiated out and down her back, and she found herself gasping for breath as she twisted out of the chair and onto the cold tile floor. A sense of panic overtook her and she knew she needed to call for an ambulance, but the phone was in the living room. She tried to calm herself down; she knew if she could breathe, she'd be okay. _Just breathe_ , she told herself, but another jolt of pain struck, and she felt herself breaking out in a cold sweat.

The sound of a key in the door downstairs gave her renewed hope, though, and she tried to call out, but couldn't get the breath to do it. _Hurry up_ , she thought, _hurry up!_ Soon, she saw her roommates appear in the kitchen doorway, and knew it was going to be okay.

"Call 911!" Serena yelled at Ana, who was already doing it. Serena knelt beside Melora, who looked up at her with wild eyes. "Oh my God, Mel, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Chest pain," Mel winced through gritted teeth as another surge of pain enveloped her. She arched her back as though electric jolts were moving through her and down her back as she tried to catch her breath. Her vision grew blurry, and the darkness was closing in from the edge of her vision. _Sorry_ , she thought, looking at Serena as the encroaching darkness blotted out her friend's face. _Gotta go_.

It was about six pm when Romano got the call for a surgical consult downstairs. He'd been too busy to even check his messages, between the angioplasty that turned into a triple bypass and getting Mel's prescription filled at the pharmacy downstairs, he hadn't had enough time to work on the day's reports or check his messages. Now that he was finally out of his surgical gown and in his scrubs, he was the only available surgeon available. Like clockwork, he thought. "What's it for?" _And if you say rule out appy, I will murder you_ , he thought as the desk coordinator replied, "Possible cardiac arrest, 30 year old female."

Well, at least it was unusual, he thought, heading down to the ER. He was not prepared for the scene he walked in on. When he saw Serena and Anastasia standing outside the huddle of doctors and nurses in Trauma Room 1, he knew exactly what was happening. Carter was at the helm, running a central line on Melora while a med student intubated her.

"She's tachy," Abby called out.

"Give her ten of diltiazem to stabilize," Carter ordered.

Kerry Weaver called out, "Run an emergency CT as soon as she's stabilized! She was in earlier for a car accident and this is likely related. Where's Malucci?"

"Right here, Chief," he said, stepping in. To Carter, he said, taking over, "It's not a coronary. She's my patient, I saw her earlier. It's more likely an aortic aneurism, either TAAD or a triple A. Might turn into PE if we don't get her upstairs fast." He looked at the doorway and spotted Robert. "You taking it from here?"

Robert immediately snapped to. "Is her heartbeat stabilized?"

"For now. You taking her up?" Malucci responded.

He nodded, already running the procedure in his head. "Come on. We'll run an emergency CT upstairs. Now." He led them out towards the elevator, nurses scrambling to unplug what needed unplugging and wheeling IVs and monitors along with them to the elevator.

Kerry spoke up. "Robert, we were going to –"

"Don't, Kerry!" he warned, shooting a glare at her. "Not now. Unless you have some useful new information, not now." He couldn't even look at Serena and Ana; they'd have a million questions that he didn't have time for. "Talk to them," he muttered to Kerry, pointing at Melora's friends. "They're her family." Technically, they weren't, but he knew that to Melora, they were all the family she had.

It felt like the elevator took forever to get them upstairs.

It was against hospital policy and medical ethics in general to do surgery on friends or family members, so as pissed off as he'd been at Elizabeth Corday for the lawsuit she'd managed to bring down on herself and the hospital, Robert knew that she was the best surgeon for the job if they were going to go endovascular rather than opening her chest up.

Elizabeth, though dealing with her own struggles outside of the hospital, was pleased for the opportunity to prove to herself and to others that she was still surgically one of the best. They also brought in Anspaugh as primary, as he'd be the best one to make judgment calls about when or if they'd have to open her up. They quickly agreed that endovascular was ideal but if things were more complicated than the CT suggested, they would go ahead and open her up and use a filter to keep any clotting from occurring.

Robert knew better than to ask to scrub in; Anspaugh would never allow it and it would frankly be a form of torture for Robert to be present for it. He knew he'd be second-guessing every move they made, and ultimately be a disruption. So he resigned himself to sitting in his office with Serena and Ana for company. He explained in far more detail than he normally would what was going to happen, in a best case scenario: repair the damage to the aorta, remove and repair the aneurism. Hopefully, that was all that would need to happen.

The waiting in itself was torture. He tried to distract himself by doing paperwork, but he couldn't concentrate, especially with the other two present. Ana just stood and stared out the window like a heroine in an old Russian novel, while Serena paced from Robert's office to the waiting room and then finally, over to Doc Magoo's in search of a decent cup of coffee. He'd asked Kit for updates, and as of the latest update, they'd located a second issue at the aortic root, which explained why things got bad so fast. They were doing an aortic root repair – also endovascular – and should be ready to close within half an hour.

Serena returned with three large cups of coffee with cream and a lot of spare room in each cup for her next gift: a small but decent bottle of whiskey she'd acquired from a liquor store on the corner. "So I guess tonight's Metronome show is cancelled?" Robert quipped as she poured the whiskey into each of their coffees, raising her standing in Robert's good opinion.

"Ha-ha," she replied. "Drink up, me hearties." Serena held up her paper cup in a toast. "To Mel's goddamn heart."

"Aorta," Robert corrected her, adding a little more whiskey to his own coffee before drinking. It was cold and hot and bracing and numbing all at once. "Thanks, Serena. I needed that."

He felt Ana's hand on his shoulder, and she held up her cup to him, saying, "Nostrovia," before taking a drink.

He smiled back at her, taking another long sip of his Irish coffee, feeling a strange sense of comfort in shared misery. He wanted nothing more than to hover at the window of the OR, but again, he knew he couldn't simply stand there and watch. All or nothing – that was how it always had been with him. You were in up to your elbows, or you were all the way out and down the hall.

Finally, they got the word that she was in recovery and that things had gone well. Robert knew that generally, recovery meant just doctors and nurses, but assured Serena and Ana that they could see her in a few hours once she was situated in her room. "She'll be in better shape to visit in the morning," he told them, and they agreed to go home for the night. Serena left the whiskey behind and gave him a rare hug before heading out.

In recovery, Melora was just coming to from the anesthetics, and blinked up at Robert with large, drugged eyes. "Heyyyy," she said sleepily, still groggy and a bit hoarse from the intubation. "Am I dead?"

"No," Robert told her, taking her hand. "You just had surgery."

"Did you operate on me? I don't remember that." Melora looked at the woman standing behind Robert with the curly red hair. "Whozzat?"

"No, I didn't operate on you. This is Dr. Corday. She did."

Melora tried to focus her vision and ground herself, but everything felt very dream-like still. "What happened? Why?"

Elizabeth gave her a reassuring smile and said, "The accident you were in earlier caused damage to your aorta. We repaired it and you'll be fine. You just need to rest up."

"Oh! Dr. Corday. I've heard of you," Mel recalled, but she still felt quite fuzzy from the drugs and couldn't remember how or why or even what she knew of Elizabeth. "I like your accent. It's so pretty."

Elizabeth had to smile at this gentle young woman. The fact that she'd heard of Elizabeth – from Robert, no doubt – made her wonder exactly what Melora had heard. Was it good or bad? Did she know about Robert's earlier pursuit of Elizabeth? But she also felt it was so odd to think that Robert could actually have moved on from, well, herself. She'd never once seriously considered dating him, but now she had to wonder, seeing him dote on this pretty young woman... It made her wonder how he could have gotten over her so easily? Hiding all of these thoughts, she replied, "Thank you, Melora. You're feeling all right, then, I take it? No pain?"

Melora gave her a thumbs up. "A-okay."

Robert leaned forward, saying softly, "Mel, you need to get some rest. I can tell you all about it in the morning." He kissed her hand for now. "I'll be there when you wake up."

"Okey-dokey. G'night." Melora's heavy lids were already closing. "Love you."

He smiled a little, saying, "I love you too. Sleep well."

Robert and Elizabeth walked out into the hallway. "Thanks, Lizzie. I knew you were the one for the job. Excellent work."

"Of course," Elizabeth replied before asking, "I appreciate the opportunity. I've never had a double aneurism resulting from trauma before, so it was an excellent challenge." She paused, then asked, "So, she's your girlfriend, then?"

He thought he'd made that clear earlier; it was why he wasn't the one doing the surgery, after all. "Yes."

"How long have you two been…together?"

He hadn't expected the question, and replied, "Uh, since the end of January, I think?"

Elizabeth nodded. Nearly a year? He'd certainly done a good job of keeping it quiet. She'd have thought he'd have been proudly parading her in the halls all this time. Perhaps she'd misjudged his character? "Well, that's splendid."

There was something stiff in her speech and Robert realized then that she'd just been assuming he was still waiting in the wings for her. Was she jealous? No way, he told himself. She'd always made it clear that she found him repugnant. Still, it did make him feel a little self-satisfied to think he'd given her food for thought. "You didn't think I was going to just wait around forever, did you?"

"Of course not. That's not …" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and added, "As I said, Robert, I'm very pleased you've met someone so lovely. She seems very sweet." It was so hard for her to digest, and even she didn't know why. She'd always assumed he was a bit of a dud. Uncaring, misogynistic, and probably not very good in bed. Now, though, she wondered if she'd completely misread things.

He smiled a little at Elizabeth's summation of Melora as "sweet." "She's high as a kite right now, but sure. She's a talented musician and smart as hell and cute and feisty and kind of perfect. She's a survivor. And I'm grateful to you for helping extend that survival." He looked at her as she fidgeted a little uncomfortably. "How's everything going with Greene?"

"Oh, splendid," she assured him, looking down at her feet as she tried to sell herself on the idea. "Really."

Robert wondered what was really going on. "How did your deposition go?"

Her smile vanished. Was he really going to bring that up? "I think you probably know how it went."

Robert paused. Uh-oh. He hadn't intended to hit a sore spot with her. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I wasn't intending to…" Ugh, he'd never say the right thing with this one. It was almost as if she was constantly looking for a reason to hate him. "It was just a question. Was it that bad?"

Why was he being so nice to her? Elizabeth realized then that maybe everything he did and said was not designed solely to torture her. She shook her head. "No, no, I know. I didn't…well, yes, it went pretty horribly." She wasn't about to admit that she'd lied, but she did say, "It made me realize that perhaps I don't always know best. Always something difficult for any surgeon to admit."

Robert, relieved that he wasn't about to be skewered by Elizabeth Corday yet again, smiled a little at that. "Wait, you mean we're not always right?" That elicited a smile from her – a genuine one, he thought. He added, "Look, I told Doug Ross once that just because you're right doesn't make you special. You have to prove that on your own. And I think, honestly, it takes a very special surgeon to know when to admit they're in over their heads. I'm not sure if I'm ever going to learn that one, frankly. You…I think you can, though."

Elizabeth noticed the shift in his tone. He didn't sound so cock-sure now – just a friend offering a word of support. Was that even possible? Who knew – maybe this Melora was a good influence. She smiled. "Thanks. I hope so. It's just…it's a lot to deal with, on top of everything."

"Things okay with Greene?"

She sighed. "Not perfect, quite honestly. Just between us." She wasn't sure if it was a good idea to share everything with Robert. "Things are complicated."

Robert nodded when she finally opened up a little. "Lizzie, things are never going to be simple. Especially not where relationships are concerned. I know you didn't ask for my two cents, but my advice? Keep at it. Work through the sticky stuff. It's worth the effort."

Elizabeth couldn't believe her ears. It was as if she had never met this person before. "Thank you, Robert. That…that's really good of you to say."

"Tell ya what – I'll be around tomorrow. We'll grab some coffee and talk. I'm here for you, in a completely non-devious or scheming way. Remember those days? When you first were here and we actually laughed together?"

Elizabeth smiled, laughing a little. "I do!. And I'll take you up on that. It would be lovely to have a friend around here who's not waiting for me to fail miserably."

"You're preaching to the choir, Lizzie. I'm thinking of putting up a sign marking the number of days since someone's set me up for failure. I think all surgeons feel that, though. It's in our nature to be competitive."

"That's true," she agreed, feeling better not just about her position at County now, but everything. "Okay, let's get that coffee tomorrow. I'll look in on Melora first thing. See you then?"

"You got it," he said, spirits lifted. Maybe the old friendship between he and Elizabeth could be mended. Maybe they could at least show up for one another as friends. And it certainly couldn't hurt to have a female's feedback and perspective when it came to his own relationship. They went their separate ways, with a feeling of hope for better days between them.

TBC


	3. Recovery

**What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 3: Recovery

Robert got to work much earlier than he was scheduled to the next day, looking in on Melora and making sure she was still sleeping. She'd gotten a private room on the fifth floor at Robert's request, and said they didn't need to wake her until 8:30 a.m. So with that in mind, he got caught up on his reports from the previous two days' surgeries before returning to her room around 8 a.m. in case she woke up early.

He sat beside her bed reading a medical journal article that he'd been meaning to get to when he noticed her stirring, eyes opening slowly. He set the journal aside and moved his chair closer. "Hey there, Mel," he said, smiling down at her. "How're you feeling?"

She smiled weakly. "Like a truck hit me." She smacked her lips a few times, adding, "Oh, wait. That actually happened already." She licked at her dry lips, adding, "Did you guys yank all my saliva glands as well?"

He smiled back at her – at least her sense of humor was intact and she knew what had happened. "It's a side effect of the anesthesia. Here, munch on these," he said, handing her a small cup of ice chips.

"What, do you walk around with these things?" She was surprised that he had them so handy.

"Hey, a surgeon knows what every post-op patient wants. I came prepared." He brushed her bangs away from her eyes. "Do you remember what happened?"

Melora munched on an ice cube before answering, "I remember that I was at home, sitting in the kitchen and then it felt like I was being stabbed with a thousand knives." She remembered seeing Serena's face before blacking out.

He winced. "Sounds about right. You had what we call a thoracic aortic aneurism that ruptured. Honestly, I was surprised that it progressed so quickly, but according to your surgeons, the accident also wrenched the aortic root, creating another aneurism and that was essentially double trouble."

"Okay." She munched on another ice cube. "Aorta – is that part of the heart?"

"Close. It's the body's major artery that carries blood pumped by the heart throughout the rest of the circulatory system. It's divided into sections, so the thoracic aorta is up in your chest cavity, and the abdominal aorta goes from right below your lungs down to the pelvis."

Melora nodded. "Okay, gotcha. Sounds important."

"It is."

"I take it that doesn't show up on an x-ray?"

Robert shrugged. "Sometimes it's more obvious but usually it shows up better on a CT scan. Which, honestly, I think you should have had. If experienced eyes had seen your x-rays – which they should have – they would have realized that they were not getting the whole story and requested a CT. But they did not. We're lucky that Serena and Ana found you when they did." _And don't think I won't be ringing Weaver's bell about this later_ , he thought to himself.

Melora pondered this quietly. "Did I almost die, Robert?"

He exhaled. How to respond to that? "You could have. Yes."

Melora shook her head, as if only just now putting it together. "So…wow." She set aside her ice chips. "I kind of remember waking up for a while last night. Was that real?"

"It was. When the anesthetic wore off after surgery, you regained consciousness. You met Dr. Corday, one of your surgeons."

Melora's eyes lit up. "Okay, that was real, then! British?"

Robert smiled. "Yep. She should be along anytime now for the follow-up."

"How come you didn't operate on me?"

"It's not allowed," Robert told her. "It's not a good idea to operate on anyone you actually care about personally."

"Oh. Makes sense, I guess."

"Serena and Ana will be by later. Want me to ask them to bring anything from home?"

"Wait - how long do I have to stay here?" Melora asked, as if just figuring out that she may not be going home immediately.

"A week. Although I may be able to spring you on Sunday morning. Trust me, it'll go by fast. Just a few days popping painkillers and antibiotics, and sending me on insane errands to get CDs and food and whatever other odd things you require."

A light knock on the door came then, and in stepped Elizabeth with one of the nurses. Elizabeth wore a cheerful smile, greeting, "Good morning! It's good to see you awake already. How're you feeling?"

"A bit wrecked, but better. I feel like I've been asleep for a really long time," Melora replied, adding, "I know we met last night, but I honestly can't remember much about it. I hope I didn't say anything embarrassing."

"Not at all," Elizabeth assured her as the nurse stepped in. "This is Nurse Cho, and she is going to take your vitals and give you some medicine to take with your breakfast, which I presume will be arriving shortly."

"Good!" Melora said. "I feel starving." She let the nurse take her blood pressure and temperature, and Robert moved out of the way to let them work.

"That's my cue to leave," he said. "I'll be back in a bit, though. What do you want me to have Serena and Ana bring you from home?"

Over the thermometer, Melora asked, "Any way I can get something from home in the way of PJs that aren't quite so - " she motioned towards her back. "-revealing?"

Robert grinned. "Sorry, I think they need easy access. To your bandages and IV lines," he added quickly.

She started laughing, almost dropping the digital thermometer from her mouth, much to Nurse Cho's consternation. "Okay, I'm not even going to go near that one. How about a robe or a hoodie, then? And my music and headphones? And some books?"

Robert looked to Elizabeth as if for pity, then to Melora. "Okay, just write everything down when these two are done with you. I'll collect the list later. Okay?"

Melora nodded and he stepped back towards the door. "Okay. Thanks."

Before he stepped out, Robert asked Elizabeth, "Dr. Corday, can I speak with you when you're done in here?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll come find you," she agreed. Watching the oddly sweet scene just now convinced her that indeed, Robert Romano had a side he kept well-hidden from most of County General. She smiled once more at Melora as the nurse wrapped up her duties. "He's a good man to have in your corner around here," she remarked.

"And in general," Melora added. "I think he doesn't want people here to know he's an actual human being."

"I suspect you're correct about that," Elizabeth agreed. She understood that well enough; the less people around here knew about one's private life, the better. She went on to answer Melora's questions and fill her in on what had happened during surgery. It had been a minimally invasive surgery, with no need to open her chest. She gave Melora a rundown on what recovery would be like, including the earlier prescribed physical therapy for her arm. She left Melora with some reading material about all the do's and don't of her recovery. "You'll need 8 weeks off of work, resting at home with only mild exercise, and even then only after two weeks of bedrest."

Melora's face fell; there was no way she'd be able to keep her restaurant job. "I play cello. I know I can't play for two weeks anyway because of my arm, but can I play after that?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Absolutely. That shouldn't interfere with your recovery at all. I usually recommend letting pain be your guide. Pain is your body's way of telling you it's not ready to exert itself yet. So don't ignore it. When you feel pain or are tired, stop and rest."

Melora, relieved that her surgeon was a woman, asked, "What about sex? How long, generally, do people have to wait?"

Elizabeth felt herself going red; she'd often addressed this question but in the past, she hadn't personally known one of the parties being discussed. She saw a look of embarrassed regret crossing Melora's face, and was quick to reassure her patient. "Oh, ehrm, yes, probably two or three weeks. Two minimum, and probably not more than four." She quickly regained her composure and returned to "the script", reciting what she usually said. "Lots of times, patients who've undergone surgery may feel quite well and ready for it before they actually are. Your body will let you know. Basically, ask yourself, 'Am I ready to shovel snow or go for a jog?' And if the answer is no, then you're probably not ready for sex."

Melora couldn't resist joking, "Shoveling snow? Oh no, I think I may be doing it wrong!"

That elicited a brief but loud laugh from Elizabeth, and she thought she understood exactly what appealed to Robert about this woman. "If shoveling snow were half as enjoyable as that, I'm sure the streets of Chicago would be clear of snow all winter."

"Right?" giggled Melora. "And people wouldn't be so fat, either. We'd all be jogging maniacs. Anyway, that's good to know. If I can shovel snow, I can have fun times," she joked, still giggling a little and thinking that she might now refer to sex as "shoveling snow."

Once they'd finished speaking, Elizabeth found Robert in his office, working on some budgets for a later meeting. "Hey. You want that coffee? I've got twenty minutes before a meeting."

At Doc Magoo's, Robert had a bagel and coffee while Elizabeth opted for a hard-boiled egg with wheat toast and tea. "I have to hand it to you, Robert," she said, sipping at her tea. "Melora is a pistol. I can see why you like her. She's got a lot of life for such a little thing."

"Perfectly put," he agreed. "She may be small, but she's got a big personality."

"Sounds like someone else I know," quipped Elizabeth.

Robert smiled; he hadn't thought of that before. He'd always thought they were quite different. And while they were different in terms of what drove them, Elizabeth was correct – they both lived large, albeit in different ways. "Thanks again for taking care of her and following up this morning."

"Of course, I'm happy to."

Robert, never one to mince words, asked, "So tell me – what's been eating at you?"

"You mean, aside from the Patterson lawsuit? The one that would make me lucky to find a job selling fish and chips, I believe you said?"

He nodded. "Yeah. That's the one." She wasn't expecting an apology from him about that, was she? "Look, I know I was harsh. You needed to hear it. Lawsuits happen, Lizzie. It'll settle, and maybe your insurance premiums will go up. It's part of the scenery."

Elizabeth nodded. She wasn't prepared to tell him about Mark's medical issues, or her pregnancy. "I can't go into detail about everything that's happening. Because it's not because of you. I'll be able to discuss it eventually. In the meantime, I just would like to know that somebody other than Mark has my back."

Robert nodded easily at that, sensing that whatever was bothering her was serious. "Okay. Yeah, sure. You need anything – time off, an early day, help with the schedules – you let me know and we'll make it happen. Do what you need to do. Your job is safe."

Elizabeth sighed as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you, Robert. You've no idea what a relief it is to hear that."

"Just don't make me regret it," he told her half-jokingly.

Elizabeth laughed. "Not to worry. I won't."

88888

After his break with Elizabeth, Robert made a detour into the ER. He'd given a lot of thought to this earlier, and he knew exactly what he was going to say…and what he was not going to say. "Dr. Weaver," he said, approaching Kerry Weaver.

"Robert," Kerry said neutrally, clearing her throat as if this visit was nothing more than a pleasant hello.

"Do you have a moment to spare? It looks as if Exam 3 is free." He held up Melora's chart from the other day, including her films. "I'd love to get your opinion on something."

Kerry tried her best to look busy and exasperated, but knew it would have no effect on Robert. "Yes."

Once in Exam 3, Robert told her, "Look, I don't want to waste your time. I'm not looking for an apology. I mean, I was ER Chief a while back, and I know about budgetary constraints and the need to make sure that expensive tests aren't run needlessly. I just want to know: when a doctor comes to you and says he believes a patient needs a CT despite the lack of anything he can see on an x-ray to back that up, what do you, as his supervisor, say? Or ask?"

"I ask if the patient is symptomatic of having internal injuries."

Robert nodded. "Yeah, me too. Would you look at the chart? Or review the x-rays? Would you, for instance, ask if there was back pain present?"

Kerry stood up straighter and spoke defensively. "I would – and did – ask if there was vomiting, nausea, chest or abdominal pain."

"But not back pain."

"I might."

"Did you? Yesterday, in the case of Melora Weir, specifically."

"I don't recall," she said, and Robert knew that Kerry's memory was being terribly selective.

"And what was the answer to the chest pain question?"

"There was no nausea, no fever – "

"But was there chest pain?"

"Yes, but it was contusion pain. Not internal. Not the sort of chest pain that would indicate TAA!" Kerry's voice had risen, and she realized it then.

"Did you instruct Dr. Malucci to determine whether the chest pain was external or internal?"

"No."

"Why not?" He already knew the answer.

"Because there is no way to determine that," she said quietly, looking at the floor briefly. "Pain is a symptom, not an independently occurring thing. Maybe I should have reviewed the chart and the x-rays personally. If that's what you're saying, I…" She paused, as if it was actually causing her pain to do it. "In hindsight, I should have asked more probing questions. I don't know that I would have decided a CT was necessary, though. I may have come to the same conclusion I did yesterday."

"But you might not have." He spoke quietly, meaningfully. "You might have seen what I saw when I looked at these yesterday, before she was brought in with TAAD and a dilated aortic root aneurism. The chart specifically states that she had back pain. And chest pain. With a lot of very visible bruising in some very important areas."

"But without any fractures or fluid in the lungs."

"Neither of which has anything at all to do with the goddamn aorta!" He slid the x-ray onto the lightbox and turned it on. "That's like saying a skier couldn't possibly have a broken leg because they're not nauseous. The two are unrelated. Here, look at the x-ray. What do you see?"

Kerry looked at it cursorily and replied, "I see a clean x-ray."

"Look again, please."

"Robert, what do you want me to say?"

"Put on your glasses, please, and take another look. And if you honestly see a clean x-ray, then I guess I'm just gifted as fuck, because yesterday, I noticed that the aorta looked a little bit brighter than it normally might. Right? Do you see it now?" He pointed to the area on the x-ray where the aorta glowed bright and thick.

Kerry sighed, looking closer now, and realized what she'd missed. "Yes. Okay. I don't know if I'd have seen that yesterday, but now that you point it out, it's deserving of a CT."

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, taking the x-ray down and placing it back in the chart. "That's all I wanted to hear from you, Kerry. I don't want to hear what you were thinking yesterday, or about hindsight being 20/20, or any of that bullshit. What matters is keeping your mind focused on the job. You've got a lot of residents under you, Kerry, and they're looking to you not to just say no, but to consider their cases. It's this sort of arrogant dismissal of potentially serious problems that gets people killed. It got Lucy Knight killed back in February, and it almost killed the woman I love last ngiht. So just…get your head in the game, already. I won't tolerate any more sloppy non-reviews."

"Is that an official warning?"

"You mean, am I writing you up?"

"Yes," Kerry replied, although she'd lost her defensive edge. She spoke in a more resigned way.

"I should, but considering my personal interest in this, I don't think it would be ethically proper. So I'm passing it along to the Board for peer review. They'll probably let it go and call it a 'teaching moment' and maybe ask you to present it at the next M&M conference." He paused, having gotten what he came for: not an apology, not a justification. An admission of error in judgment. "I do hope that you remember this, though, the next time a resident wants to run a test that you suspect may not be necessary."

Kerry nodded. "Yes. I understand." She slid her glasses off and now really did look him in the eye. He could see the regret there. "I've been asking myself these questions since last night. When does judgment become clouded by things that have no business in an ER? How do we keep external pressures from affecting our ability to make clear-headed judgments? I assure you, Robert, I will not let this happen again."

"Good." Robert handed the file back to Kerry. He honestly didn't care about the quandaries that kept her awake at night; he had his own. "Then we're done here."

88888

Melora's day was filled with meds and naps and being awakened from naps by nurses wanting to monitor her blood pressure and temperature. Serena and Ana had come bearing some comforts from home, including books and her Discman, along with several CDs. Robert waited until they were gone; it wasn't that he wasn't fond of them, exactly, but he honestly wanted quiet time with Melora, not to be trapped in an enthusiastically female echo chamber.

Once he was done with his surgeries, he was headed up to five when Shirley gave him a knowing look. "Going to see your girlfriend, Dr. Romano?"

"Yes, Shirley." He paused and returned her look. "What?"

She adopted an innocent look. "Just asking!" Smiling devilishly, she added, "Tell her we wish her a speedy recovery. We want our Chief happy!"

Robert had to smile a little as he rolled his eyes, continuing on his way.

TBC


	4. Matters of the Heart and Brain

**What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 4: Matters of the Heart, Brain and Other Major Organs

On Thursday, Elizabeth met with Robert for lunch, this time someplace nicer than Doc Magoo's. Robert could tell from Elizabeth's taut expression that whatever had been bothering her earlier seemed to be getting worse. He was almost afraid to ask, so at first they just caught up with some friendly chit-chat.

"I saw that Melora's scheduled for release on Sunday," Elizabeth observed distractedly.

Robert nodded, digging into his salad. "Yes. She's been walking around quite a bit lately. We upgraded her to her normal pajamas and now she just kind of goes wherever the elevator takes her."

"Oh?" Elizabeth replied, and Robert thought that she probably not even listening.

"Mmm-hmm," he said, deciding to test her. "Yesterday she went over to Oncology and discovered a cure for cancer."

"Hmmm." Elizabeth picked at her salad, then looked up at him. "What did you say about cancer?"

Robert smiled. "Ha! I knew you weren't listening. What's up, Lizzie? You've been miles away this week."

Elizabeth sighed. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something. Actually, I need to, seeing as how I'll need to get some time off. I suppose I just didn't want to bring down our luncheon chat."

"Go ahead, bring it down. I'm used to it," he assured her, playing it off as nothing even though internally, he worried a bit for her.

"Well, you know that Mark and I got a house together."

Robert nodded. "Yeah – I saw the change of address. You guys are only ten minutes from me, actually."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It's not as jolly as all that. You see, Mark…" She lowered her voice as she looked at him. "Mark's got a brain tumor."

Robert stopped eating and looked at her, seeing the pain and uncertainty in her eyes. "Oh, God. I'm sorry, Lizzie. What type?" He wasn't a huge fan of Mark Greene, but he knew the man loved Elizabeth and Robert wouldn't wish a brain tumor on even his worst enemy.

" _Glioblastoma multiforme_."

He was silent for a moment. What could you say to that? The man was as good as gone; it was just a matter of time. "How far progressed?" The answer to this question would determine the when, in all likelihood.

"The good news is, it's just one tumor so far. The bad news is, its location is rather close to the Cerebellum for the surgeons here to want to try and remove it. And without removal, all chemo or radiation will do is buy us a limited amount of time."

His salad forgotten now, Robert's mind was already trying to find another solution to Elizabeth's problem. "Has he looked for a second opinion?" He had several names loaded and ready, if needed.

Elizabeth replied, "Yes, actually. That's where the potentially good news comes in. He's sending his case to a Dr. Burke in New York City. Have you heard of him? We're meeting him on the 23rd. He sounds cautiously optimistic that Mark may be a candidate for his new procedure. It sounds terrifying, but it's all we've got right now. Aside from the baby, anyway."

Robert almost did a double-take. "Baby? You guys are -?"

Elizabeth nodded, managing a smile this time at his almost comically surprised expression. "Yes. But it's only the second month, Robert, and you're the only person in Surgery who knows. So I'd appreciate it if you could keep it quiet for the time being."

"Sure, sure. Of course." He couldn't quite wrap his head around it – a baby and a brain tumor all at once.

"We'd planned to marry but this has put a bit of a damper on our plans. Everything seemed so bright a few weeks ago, and now…" She shook her head, trying to make herself eat at least the protein bits of her Cobb Salad. "Now, instead of fixing up a nursery and celebrating the holidays in our new home, we're off to New York for oncology appointments. Which is why I need two days off before Christmas."

Robert nodded almost dismissively. "Absolutely! I'll cover scheduling for you while you're gone. Just tell Brenda what days you'll be away."

She gave him a sly look. "You won't give Peter my job while I'm gone?"

"Ha-ha," he replied, relieved that her sense of humor was intact. "I think it's safe to say I'd give your job to Shirley before I'd give it to Benton."

That earned a laugh from Elizabeth, and he was glad that he could at least do that. "Thanks for that visual," she grinned, having an easier time with her lunch then. "I'd actually like to see that, I think."

Once they returned to the hospital, Robert walked Elizabeth to the ER, where she suddenly gave him a hug. "Thank you for everything, Robert," she said quietly in his ear. "I'm glad we're friends again."

Though Robert was surprised by the show of affection, he was happy to hear it from her. The fact that she said they were friends _again_ implied that when she first came to County, he hadn't been alone in thinking they were friends. "Me, too," he told her, smiling as they separated. "Don't hesitate to ask for anything. And keep me posted, too?"

"I shall," she assured him, hurrying off towards the lounge to call Mark at home.

Robert noticed that Chuny, Jerry and Malucci were all pretending not to have seen any of it. _Great_ , he thought. Between those three, he was pretty much guaranteed some sort of gossip about that hug. _This place_ , he thought to himself, heading up to Medicine to visit Melora in her room, a take-out bag from the restaurant in hand.

He entered her room, finding her (not surprisingly) in bed, eyes closed, listening to music on her headphones. "Just as I thought. Lazing around in bed again." He could tell she was awake and could hear him, so he continued as he took a peek at the chart. "You're thinking, aren't you? Thought I told you to cut that out."

"Why? Afraid I'm going to realize what a fool I've been and leave you?" she smiled slyly, sitting up a bit too fast and emitting an "Ow! That hurt."

"Then don't do it," he suggested, sitting on the edge of her bed beside her.

"Wise-ass," she grinned as she placed her headphones on the rolling tray next to the bed. "If he'd thought of it, I'm sure my father would have warned me about guys like you."

"Hmmm, what kind would that be? Caring, considerate, at your beck and call-"

"Wise-asses," she replied, solidifying in Robert's mind why he liked simply being around her so much; she was always genuine, even when joking.

"I'm spoiling you, I think." He held up the bag from the restaurant. "I just came from lunch with Lizzie at Finch's. Picked you up a chicken salad sandwich on croissant. And a brownie."

"Wow!" She accepted the bag, smile widening and giving him a kiss. "Don't tell anyone, but I think you're a very thoughtful man. When you feel like it, anyway." She paused. "Is 'Lizzie' Dr. Corday?"

Robert nodded, trying to look natural. Why did he feel like he needed to feel guilty or as if he'd been caught at something? Was it because of his history with Elizabeth? Yes. There was something about Melora not knowing there was a history, let alone an unpleasant one, that made him feel the need to come clean about it. "Yeah. I call her that sometimes. She's here because of me, actually. I sponsored her to come here from England."

"Really?" Melora raised her eyebrows as she took out her lunch. "When was that?"

"About three years ago," he replied, deciding to just get it all out in the open so he didn't have to feel like he was hiding anything. "Honestly? I was kind of an ass to her back then. I sort of developed this crush on her. I might have been a little bit…well, not the smoothest guy in the world. And when she turned me down, I chose not to renew my sponsorship."

Melora forgot about her sandwich for now, her eyes looking at him with a mixture of surprise and anger. "What? Robert, did you sexually harass that nice lady?"

"No!" he replied quickly and vehemently. Why did everyone keep saying it that way? "No, I was completely within my rights not to renew it."

"And I suppose you'd have come to the same decision if she'd slept with you? Because if not, that is the actual definition of sexual harassment."

Robert knew deep down that she was right, but he wasn't going to admit it. All he would say to that was, "There's a reason why people around here developed certain unfavorable opinions about me. Back then, I was a guy with a lot to prove and not a lot of social finesse."

Melora sighed, giving him a pitying look. "Yeah, I guess I can see where you might unintentionally come off as pervy sometimes."

Robert chuckled a little at that. "Only sometimes? Anyway, Elizabeth found a way around the sponsorship, anyway. But…admittedly, things between us over the past few years have been pretty much shit. Until Monday, when she operated on you," he confided. "I guess I let my guard down and saw her for who she really is – a talented surgeon and one of the only people I trusted enough to do your surgery, past issues aside. It's weird, but we're actually friends again, thanks to you."

Melora wasn't sure how to feel about being the conduit for making peace between her boyfriend and his old crush. "Uh…you're welcome?" She sat back and munched on a French fry. "So, you and Dr. Cord – uh, Lizzie? - are buddy-buddy now?"

"Stick with Elizabeth. I think Lizzie annoys her a little." Robert shrugged. "Yeah. Well, it's not like we're besties, but at least I don't feel as if she's picturing my grisly death when she looks at me now. Plus, she's going through some tough stuff right now, so if I can do her a solid and be there for her at work, that's something, right?"

Melora nodded, still not entirely sure about this. "Yeah, sure." She knew she couldn't very well begrudge him a female friend after he'd learned to accept the fact that half of Melora's friends were male. She'd assured him her heart only had room for one, and like it or not, that one was Robert. She just hoped that his heart operated in a similar manner. "She seems really sweet," she offered. _And smart. And gorgeous. And tall…._ "Did I tell you what she said about shoveling snow?"

Robert grinned at the memory. "You did! And I look forward to your days of shoveling snow once more, hopefully not too far in the distant future."

Reassured by that, Melora said, "Everyone here has been so nice. I'll have to remember this place the next time my organs fail."

Robert cringed a little at that; he knew she was going to be fine, but it was hard for him to joke about things like that. Not about her. "There won't be a next time."

There was a rapid tapping at the half-shut door and Serena and Anastasia came in carrying a small bag of CDs. "Hi honey! Your music committee is here!" Serena was even smaller than Melora, her voice almost like a child's. Ana, on the other hand, was about six feet tall, gaunt and silent, but no less warm in spirit than her friends. Serena saw Robert was standing to leave, and she motioned for him to stay. "Look, we've got a bit of a problem, but maybe also a solution."

 _Uh-oh. Now what?_ "Yes?" he prompted.

To Melora, she said, "We know you can't get back on the job full-time for two months, right?" Serena asked, looking at Robert for confirmation.

"Jobs involving physical labor, yes that's right," I nodded.

"What about the cello?"

"Two weeks, I'd say."

"Well, that sticks us for rent," Serena said. "I know it's early but I'm only bringing it up now because -"

"I'll float you," Robert said quickly; Melora's share of their already-low rent was next to nothing for him.

"No, that's not what I mean." Serena shook her head.

"What do you mean, that's not what you mean? That's why you brought it up, right?"

Serena's face flushed. "No, I wasn't panhandling."

"Guys, slow down!" Melora intervened, though from the look on her face she was both confused and exasperated. "Serena, what's up?"

"Joey's sister is in town for the holidays but wants to extend her stay through January, and she needs a place to stay. We thought maybe she could sublet your room while you're recovering. She'll pay your share, you can maybe stay with him -" Serena gestured towards Robert as she spoke, " - and you don't have to worry about rent and utilities. And _we_ don't have to feel bad about taking his money."

Melora seemed a bit overwhelmed by all of that. "You're putting both Robert and me on the spot here, Serena. What's he going to do, say no, I can't stay there?" Melora looked much more bothered by this than Robert would have liked.

"Mel, it's okay. I prefer to be able to look after you -" he told her, and Serena nodded.

But Melora cut him off. "I don't need looking after! I'm just not supposed to be toting trays loaded down with food around all day. You know, Serena, you could have spoken to me about this first."

Serena shot Robert a help-me-out look, and he came to what he hoped was the rescue, saying, "Look, it seems pretty simple to me. You can stay with me, drive the Volvo if you want to come into the city once you're more mobile. You'd be doing me a big favor by taking care of Gretel while I'm at work. You yourself said staying at my house was like vacation – spa tub, stereo system, big TV. You can get plenty of rest, practice your music as loud as you want, take long baths - need I go on? If you get bored out in the 'burbs, invite Ana and Serena over for practice and lemon drops. But don't for a minute think you're imposing. I know being subjected to me for six weeks is a lot, but you were complaining just two weeks ago that we never see each other -" He trailed off, giving her his best "it's your loss if you say no" look, and she buckled, laughing.

"You had me at the huge TV and spa tub. Okay, then - I'll pick up a few of my things on Sunday when they release me." Robert knew that "a few" meant half of her earthly belongings and winced. She caught his look and added teasingly, "I saw that!"

"That's my girl," he joked back. "I'll make sure to stock up on liquor."

"Just remember," she told Robert, wagging a finger at him, "You asked for it!"

8888

The next day, Melora decided to attempt a longer walk than usual, and remembering Dr. Dave and Abby, she decided to seek them out down in the ER. She was just wearing a pair of black lounging pants and a sweatshirt bearing the 4AD record label logo, along with a pair of sheepskin slippers. She just hoped that she wouldn't be mistaken for an escapee from the Psych ward.

Luckily, she timed her visit during a slow moment. She saw Dr. Carter talking with another very pregnant doctor in hushed tones, so she steered away from them and ran into Malucci joking around with Malik and Jerry. She waved hello at them. "I've given the fifth floor nurses the slip. Thought I'd test out my legs down here."

"All right!" Malucci greeted enthusiastically. "I've been keeping tabs on you since you were my patient down here. They're springing you Sunday?"

"Yes!" Melora replied with enthusiasm. "I can't wait. The constant monitoring of vitals and bodily functions is making me nuts. And I miss the outdoors."

"No, you don't," Malik joked. "It's freezing out there."

"Is it weird that I even miss the snow?"

"It's extremely weird," Jerry teased. "But you kind of have to be a little weird to be Dr. Romano's girlfriend, right?"

Malucci made a _shhh!_ gesture at Jerry. "Watch it, man. Unless you miss the night shift."

"No, no, he's right," Melora said, playing along. "I am, admittedly, a little weird."

"And patient, too, I guess," Chuny remarked as she dropped off a chart in the in-box. She tossed a wink at Malucci and Jerry, leaving Melora to wonder what that meant.

As Chuny walked away, Melora looked at the two men. "What? Why am I patient?" Oh God, she thought – what more was she about to uncover? Was she about to find out the real reason he'd kept her hidden for so long?

Jerry almost replied, but Malucci patted him on the shoulder and gave him a small shake of the head, saying, "Nah, it's nothing. It's just… all of a sudden, Dr. Corday and he are friends, which was sort of like, I don't know, a sign of the apocalypse or something. She hated him. But after she worked on you… It's like, none of us knew he gave a shit about anything besides himself until you came in here. So it's just kinda _Twilight Zone_ for us, ya know?"

Melora nodded, realizing she wasn't about to hear about Robert's other family or something. "Oh! Okay. Yeah, I guess I can see that. He's told me a little about how he's seen around here, and how he acted with her before and pretty much earned her dislike. All the stuff that feeds people's perceptions of him. We all have our own brand of armor."

Malucci looked surprised that she already knew about Corday and Romano's past. "He told you? And you still like him?" He shook his head, adding, "You sure you didn't get the edited-for-TV version?"

Melora's face fell; she hadn't even considered that. "Oh. I – I don't know." Might there be more to the story than a simple crush and really regrettable case of borderline harassment? And if so, how bad did it get? How bad could it have been, if all it took was Melora's accident to aid in mending the rift? She decided to cover her sudden sense of naiveté by saying, "I'm just glad they're getting along again. She's a great doctor."

"Right. Exactly," Malucci told her, seeing the growing concern on Melora's face. She was a nice lady and probably didn't see Romano's work persona the way the rest of them did. But, maybe she should. Who knew? Maybe he wasn't as nice deep down as she thought he was. She should at least be warned and given all the information so she can judge for herself. He lowered his voice and told her, "It's just, when your boyfriend and Dr. Corday came back from lunch yesterday, they hugged. Which is no big deal for anyone except those two. I mean, last week she'd have strangled him before hugging him. So…it's just weird, you know?"

"Yeah. I know. You mentioned the pre-apocalyptic vision of it all." She was quickly souring on the conversation. Was nice Dr. Dave being just a little condescending here, like she was some dumb blond who needed to be warned about her evil boyfriend? Melora wasn't sure who she should be angry with right now: Robert, who likely had done nothing wrong, Dr. Corday, who also may have done nothing, Malucci for making her think there may be something wrong, or herself for doubting and/or believing in Robert. To say it was confusing and conflicting was putting it mildly.

Malucci could see it on her face, and said as Abby stopped by the desk to say hello, "Look, don't take it so serious. Like I said, it was no big deal or else they wouldn't have done it right out here in the open, right? It was just…a weird thing to see."

Abby, who'd heard about The Hug (or Charged Embrace, depending on who told the story) yesterday, knew that Malucci must have spilled the beans to Melora. "Dave! You didn't!"

"There was nothing to tell!" he said defensively. "Chuny started it, and Jerry was about to say something stupid-"

"What?" Jerry chimed in incredulously. "No, I wasn't!"

"Dude, you totally were. You were about to say something sarcastic."

"How would you know that?"

"Because you started making that same face you make when you're about to say something that you think is hilarious." Dave pretended to look like Jerry about to make a snide comment, getting a "not bad" from Lydia as she passed by.

"Idiots," Abby muttered, waving Melora over to her. "Come on, don't listen to them. They're worse than a couple of fishwives with their gossip."

Melora joined Abby, who steered her back to the elevators. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think about any of this," she murmured, half to herself.

Boarding the elevator with Melora, Abby replied, "Let me explain the ER to you, for context's sake. It's a hugely stressful job. People die here just about every day. So to distract themselves from the actual pain going on around them, a lot of the people who work here thrive on imagining what intrigue may or may not be going on in other people's lives. And it's rarely based in reality. Okay?"

Melora nodded dully, already regretting having decided to visit Dr. Dave. "I think he was giving me the edited-for-tv version," she remarked, not entirely sure whom she was speaking of.

The elevator deposited them on the fifth floor once more, and Abby walked with Melora back towards her room. "Honestly? I don't think there's any 'version' to worry about. They're just stunned that two stubborn surgeons appear to have mended fences like grown adults for once. And that's only because they don't want to acknowledge that who we are at work isn't all there is."

Melora understood what Abby was saying, and she appreciated it, even if it didn't completely set her at ease. "I think I get now why Robert wanted to keep me away from all of this." Was it just to protect her from hearing bad things about him, or to protect himself from having to explain them to her.

Back in her room now, Melora sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at Abby. "Robert said Dr. Corday was having a rough time right now."

Abby knew about what was happening with Mark, and nodded. "She is. Very difficult. And it's got to be a huge relief for her to have a friend as a boss, rather than someone who's trying to undermine her. Sometimes a hug is just a hug. Especially when it's right at the front door of the ER."

Melora sighed, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Was it the longer-than-usual walk, or was it all the information and the uncertainty? "You're right. I guess I just feel weird that people are talking about my relationship. It doesn't seem like it's anyone's business. Is this how celebrities feel? Because if so, I am never looking at another issue of _People_ magazine again." She kicked off her slippers and slid under the covers.

Abby sighed, thinking her own experiences with gossip brought on by her mother's mental health. "People are always going to talk. Just don't let their issues become yours."

 _Wise words_ , Melora thought to herself. "Thanks, Abby."

"No problem. I'll look in on you later," Abby replied, letting herself out while Melora tried to rest.

But still, sleep wouldn't come for a while.

TBC


	5. The Visitor

**What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 5: The Visitor

Melora couldn't get to sleep after her visit to the ER, even though the exercise had proven Elizabeth correct when she'd warned that oftentimes surgical patients thought they felt better than they really were. Physically, she was exhausted. Mentally, though, her mind was wondering if she had anything to be worried about. Finally, she abandoned the idea of a midday nap and turned on the TV. She was channel surfing through the very limited channel selection when a knock came at the door and it opened. Mel looked up, smiling at first, then frowning. "Kitty?"

Melora hadn't seen her cousin, Katrina Weir, since she was twelve. After the car accident that killed Melora's mother and brother, all of her mother's relatives – the Murphys - blamed her father for the accident. The only remaining family were her father's brother, Keith, his wife Marie, and their daughter Kitty. When Melora's father started binge drinking and lost his job, they ended up losing their house and moving in with Keith's family.

It had been at least temporarily stabilizing for Melora to be in a family environment again, but her father's drinking didn't improve and eventually, her uncle and aunt told her father he had to leave, with or without Melora. Naturally, Melora didn't want to leave her father, and went with him to the only thing they could afford: public-funded housing on the South Side.

Melora hadn't really blamed them for that; they'd tried to help. But what had hurt her was the fact that they never reached out to her after that. No check-ins, no offers to help out, no invitations to holidays, and no invitations to stay to Melora even after her father died and she was orphaned at seventeen. She'd expected that of her mother's side, but not of her father's family. She'd felt like an orphan then in every possible way, and now, she was reminded of that sense of utter abandonment like a sharp smack across the face.

But here was Kitty now, eighteen years later, all grown up and looking like quite the professional. "Mellie," she said softly, coming over to the bed and reaching out for Melora's hand.

Melora was too stunned to move her hand away – she hadn't been called "Mellie" in years. Finally, the old feelings overtook her and she managed to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Dad told me about the accident," Kitty told her, letting go of Melora's hand and stepping back a bit.

Trying to shut down all the hurt before it could show on her face, Melora pursed her lips and looked down, fussing with her bedcovers. "I'm fine now. Going home Sunday, actually." Melora squinted at her. "How did Uncle Keith hear, anyway?"

"Dad's in the Chicago PD, remember?"

Melora shook her head. "I was twelve. I don't think I was really paying attention."

Kitty scrambled to add, "He's a Lieutenant, a homicide detective now. I guess he'd asked to be alerted if anything ever came up over the radio."

"How come Uncle Keith didn't come say hello himself?"

Kitty shrugged. "He thought you wouldn't want to see him."

Melora nodded, not surprised that the big brave detective was afraid to face her now. "Well, he's right. I don't. It's nothing against you, Kitty, but I've had no family for eighteen years. I'm not looking to reconnect now just because Uncle Keith wants to ease his conscience."

Kitty flinched. "What?"

"It's reassuring to know that the Weirs are still as self-concerned as always," I told her. "Look, I don't blame you for any of this. I don't blame your folks for kicking us out, either. I mean, Dad was a mess and he didn't want to even try to fix himself. But…do I have to explain why this is fucked up? Nobody came for me when Dad died. Not even a phone call or a card or…anything. I'm alive because I fought my way out of that hell, all by myself. Wait, no – not all by myself. With the help of my _real_ family – the friends in my life whom I actually can depend on, and the teachers who actually gave a shit and taught me how to get out."

"Mellie, I'm sorry," Kitty said quietly. "I know it doesn't change anything for you. And I don't know why Dad and Mom didn't do more. It probably had something to do with the fact that Mom was sick and Dad didn't want to make things harder for her by bringing you in – I honestly don't know. But agreed – I could have at least called or come over."

"Yeah, you think?" Melora shook her head. "No, seriously – I get why you didn't, especially if your mom was sick. Is she okay?"

Kitty shook her head, tearing up then. "She was better for a while, but then it came back – breast cancer. She died about eight years ago."

Melora felt her heart sink. She'd wanted to hold onto that anger, to feel justified in still hating her Aunt Marie and Uncle Keith, to imagine that they were just as bad as her mother's side of the family. It was so much easier to imagine them all as the evil step-parents in a fairy tale. Hearing that there were things going on behind the scenes that she hadn't known about made that anger crumble, and without the angry energy to fuel her, all she had left was a lingering sadness. She swallowed past a hard lump in her throat. "Oh, Kits. I'm sorry. I'm acting like an asshole. Talk about a self-concerned Weir!"

Kitty shook her head, signaling it wasn't necessary to apologize. "No, I – I get it. I actually kind of figured you'd feel…" She trailed off, adding, "Just so you know, Dad's always felt bad that he didn't do more. But you know how our family is – it's all or nothing. He's either in it up to his neck, or he's all the way out."

Melora nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. She had lived it for years – and it was in her own genes, as well. And for once, it felt good – albeit bittersweet – to be talking to someone who shared that familial knowledge. She found herself remembering the good times before the accident – Christmas with the cousins from both sides of the family. "How are all the cousins? Do you still see them?"

Kitty shook her head. "We're the Weirs. We _all_ were exiled, remember?" Melora caught a remorseful look in her cousin's eyes then, realizing that when her father crashed the car and killed her mother and brother, he'd also killed the relationship between those two sides of the family for everyone. It hadn't been his fault – it was an accident. But he wasn't the only one who carried that burden – she saw that now.

"Yeah, I know," Melora replied. "I guess we were in the same boat and I totally thought I was in it all by myself. I'm sorry, Kits." She took a few tissues from the dispenser beside her bed and offered one to her cousin. "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything, really. You just surprised me, is all. And I'm sort of having an…unusual day. Can we try this again maybe over the holidays? Maybe even with your dad?"

Kitty took the offered tissue and nodded. "Sure," she said, regaining her own composure. She took a business card out of her purse and scribbled her home number and email address on the back of it. "Call me anytime, or shoot me an email. We'll get coffee."

Melora nodded, setting the card on her bedside table and offering her cousin a hug. It felt strange to have family again, and she still didn't know what to think about any of it. But then again, Kitty probably didn't, either.

Once her cousin had departed, Melora felt a crushing wave of sadness, filled with regret for the years spent lost in misplaced anger. Why hadn't anyone just told her? Reached out to her? They might have been able to help one another. But now Aunt Marie was gone and so much time had passed… She allowed herself the benefit of a good long cry then, glad that the nurses at least were leaving her alone for longer periods of time now.

She was just mopping at the last of her tears when Elizabeth entered, saying, "Just thought I'd check in on you one last time before – " She stopped then, realizing that Melora had recently been crying, from the looks of things. "Are you all right?"

Melora managed a smile, feeling at least a little better now. "Yeah, I'm fine now. I just…" She really didn't want to get into it with Elizabeth then. Or anyone, really. "I've just had an emotional day."

"I've had my share of those," Elizabeth said, offering her a sympathetic smile. "Anything you care to talk about?"

Melora sighed and shook her head. "No, really. I think I'm all talked out. I appreciate the offer, though. I'm okay." She remembered that Elizabeth had been having her own hard times, according to Robert and Abby, and added, "How about you?"

"Me?" Elizabeth inquired. "Oh, I'm good," she replied professionally. "I just wanted to look in on you before I leave for the weekend. If all goes as planned, you'll be a relatively free woman on Sunday."

"Fingers crossed," Melora nodded. "Physically, I feel okay. I walked maybe a bit too much. I'm exhausted, but having some trouble napping."

"Oh? How far did you go? Any pain?"

"tNo real pain in the ouch sense, just tired. I walked o the elevator, and then around the ER for a bit. Abby helped me back up. I guess you were right about feeling fine but not actually being fine."

Elizabeth nodded, wondering if the ER may have had something to do with her upset. Or had Robert been awful or insensitive about something? "Sleep is the best medicine for you. I'll see if the nurse can bring you something to help you rest with your dinner," Elizabeth said as she looked over Melora's chart. "You seem to be right on track for release. Robert says you'll be staying with him during your recovery?"

 _Oh, yeah._ With all that had just transpired, Melora had forgotten about that…and about all that she'd heard earlier. In retrospect now, it seemed like a silly thing to have troubled her, comparatively speaking. "Yes." She smiled a little at the idea of Gretel curled up next to her on the sofa as she watched all her favorite movies; it was a comforting thought.

"Well, I'm sure he'll take excellent care of you." Elizabeth set the chart back in its place and added, "Be well, okay? Rest up."

"Thanks. Have a good weekend." It felt like an inadequate thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything better. Soon, it was back to being alone with the television and her thoughts.

Elizabeth was going to head straight out after asking the nurses to add a light sedative to Melora's evening meds, but decided to swing by Robert's office first. Clearly, Melora had been upset about something, and it might be interfering with her ability to rest and recover. Robert may not be the cause of her tears, but he could at least be there for her.

He looked up from his desk; he was still in his surgical clothes from a Whipple he'd just finished – a very long day, indeed. "Hey Lizzie. Taking off?"

She nodded, stepping inside. "Just about. Hey, I just dropped in on Melora."

"Yeah? I was just getting ready to visit. How's she doing?"

"Healthwise, she's doing all right. But she appears to be rather upset about something."

"Upset?" Robert's brow furrowed. "About what?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "She wouldn't say. Her manner was normal, but I could see she'd been crying."

 _Cry?_ Robert thought. Mel didn't cry. Well, not often, anyway. "That's strange," he replied.

"All she would say is that she may have over-exerted herself with a walk down to the ER. And she said Abby helped to give her a hand back to her room. She said she was quite tired but couldn't get to sleep for a nap. I told the nurses to add a light sedative to her evening meds, but beyond that, I thought I should let you know. I was going to suggest taking her home tomorrow instead of Sunday, if you think she'll sleep better at home?"

"Definitely! If that doesn't cheer her up, nothing will. I'll go see her now."

Elizabeth turned to leave, but paused, asking, "You didn't … how shall I put this? You didn't say or do anything thoughtless today, did you?"

Robert gave her a look that told her the mere suggestion was preposterous. "I haven't seen her since this morning! I brought her a banana nut muffin and a mocha, per her request. I told her she was beautiful and promised I'd pick up some movies she'd asked for to keep her busy next week. Does any of that sound thoughtless to you?"

Elizabeth held up her hands in surrender. "No harm intended. It's just…well, you," she teased. "I'm still getting used to the idea that you're not evil."

He half-laughed at that. "Fair enough." He remembered then about the day before, and the odd looks he'd gotten in the ER after Lizzie had hugged him. And if Mel had gone down to the ER…did somebody say something that caused her to worry? He found it hard to believe that Mel would actually cry over anything anybody said about him; it really wasn't her style. But if not that, then what? "How was she when she spoke to you?"

"Normal. She was done crying and I suppose she was feeling better. "

"So she didn't seem mad or different towards you?"

"No, not at all." Elizabeth wondered what he was getting at. "Why might she?"

He waved it off. "The only thing I can think of is maybe someone said something that upset her in the ER. And I mean – you kind of hugged me in front of the world down there, which might set certain tongues to wagging."

Elizabeth looked as if he'd just told her he was from Mars. "Are you mad? That was barely even a hug."

"Worse rumors have started from less. Remember when Kerry Weaver went from putting a call in to OB to possibly being pregnant in less than one hour?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "They do love their drama down there, don't they? Still, would they be so stupid as to say anything to her about it?"

"One way to find out." Robert was determined to nip this in the bud. Maybe he should ask Abby about it first? No – that might just make things worse. "Thanks for letting me know. Have a good weekend. You guys ready for New York next week?"

"Yes, very." She softened a little and smiled. "Keep fingers crossed for us?"

"You go it. Hang in there."

He took some time to shower and change before heading up to Medicine, deciding that he might as well look his best before going in to talk to someone who might be angry with him. He tapped lightly at Melora's door before opening it.

Melora was reading, having given up on trying to find anything on television. She was still tired, but not enough to actually go to sleep. "Hey!" she smiled softly, looking at him. "I didn't think you'd be here till dinner. How's your day?"

Robert saw that her eyes were red and puffy, and noted there were several used tissues on the bedtable and in the wastebasket next to it. He leaned down and kissed her, not sensing any anger directed towards him. "Better, now," he told her. "In fact, Dr. Corday tells me that you can come home tomorrow, as long as you get lots of rest and continue to do so. She thinks you might have an easier time sleeping there."

Melora grinned at this news. "Really? Oh, that sounds amazing!"

His mind was set at ease by this reaction. "Good. Make sure to tell Serena and Ana what to pack for you. You're not allowed to exert yourself or deal with those stairs. Or leave my car till we get to my house."

Melora smiled, nodding. "I think I learned my lesson today about overdoing it."

Robert donned a look of concern, as if just now noticing her eyes. "You do look tired. And sad. Are you feeling okay? Did something happen?"

She shook her head. She really didn't want to get into it about Kitty's visit now; not until she had her emotions under better control. Right now, she just felt more fragile than she cared to admit. All she wanted for now was to forget it all. "Probably just PMS. This news about getting sprung early, though – that helps."

"Good," he told her, relieved. He doubted that this was a simple case of PMS; he'd seen what PMS did to her and honestly, it made her irritable and impatient, not teary and depressed. But maybe the hospital setting was just getting old? It had been nearly a week. He'd definitely be antsy as hell, too. "Tell you what: I've got to finish up a few things for work. Why don't you try getting some sleep, and I'll tell the nurses I've got dinner covered, so they won't wake you. I'll go out and pick us up some dinner. What do you feel like?" He expected an enthusiastic request for pizza or Thai food, not the shake of the head that she gave him.

"Actually, can we save the awesome food for tomorrow night? I should probably just eat the basic gruel or whatever they've got here and try to sleep. I'm beat."

Melora was choosing hospital food over literally anything else? He frowned. "You sure you're okay?"

"I will be," she said.

He knew then that she didn't want him to stay. Why not? Did she have more crying to do? Was she rethinking the last year of their lives over a rumor? And if so, why wouldn't she just tell him? "Yeah? You sure?" he asked, smile fading.

She nodded, her thoughts already returning to her visit and honestly, she just wanted to take that sleeping pill and forget it. "I want to just fast-forward into tomorrow. And freedom. Make sense?"

"Sure." His reply was clipped and it was hard to retain his slight smile, so he thought if she wanted to be alone and rest, best to let it be. "I'll um, I'll come get you bright and early, so rest well, okay?"

"You got it." She reached up to give him a hug and kiss, and for now, he was reassured. Still concerned, but for tonight, he could live with a little distance.

TBC


	6. Christmastime is Here

**What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 6: Christmastime Is Here

It was the day before Christmas Eve – or, more accurately, the evening before Christmas Eve. Robert was in his office at the hospital, almost ready to head home where Melora was recuperating. But first, he dialed Melora's home number, and Serena answered. "Serena, it's Robert."

"Romano?" she sounded confused.

"The same," he said. "Yeah, I know. I didn't call for fun." It wasn't as if they called just to chat ever. "Do you know if everything's okay with Melora?"

"You're the doctor," a still-confused-sounding Serena replied. "Besides, she's staying with you -"

"No, I mean emotionally. She's been acting really oddly since last Friday and I don't know what's wrong." Asking Serena, whom he barely knew, something like this went against his every instinct, but he couldn't think of anyone else to ask. So he kept his sentences as short and fast as he could.

"She's fine as far as I know. Why? What's she doing?"

Robert sighed, clearly at a loss. "She's been very distracted and distant. Not listening, not very happy, except for a while when we were out at dinner last night. I asked her what was wrong a couple of times and she said nothing, but..."

The last thing he wanted was to spill his guts to Serena. They got along fine, but outside of Melora, they had nothing in common. He tried one more time, regardless of his hesitation. "I woke up last night, and she was standing over by the window, just staring out. I think I almost gave her a heart attack when I asked her if everything was all right; she thought I was asleep. She seems to be on the verge of silent tears half the time, for Christ's sake. I just - I can't get her to say what's wrong and I need to know if she's said anything to you about what's bothering her. Is it me?"

He heard a deep exhalation of breath over the line. "You know, Robert, not everything is about you. Just try to not be so concerned about how whatever she's feeling might affect _you_ , and talk to her."

He tapped a pencil on his desk restlessly. "I take it she hasn't said anything to you, then?"

"No, nothing. I dropped off her mail today. I think she got a response about the job she applied for. By the looks of it, it's a rejection letter."

"Huh." He had no idea what she was talking about. He didn't want to give that away, though. "The job? Which one?"

"Associate faculty at the Conservatory. Honestly, I think she can do a lot better than that. But whatever's bugging her, it can't be too bad because I didn't pick up on anything and it didn't seem to upset her too much. But maybe me and Ana should come hang out tomorrow? It's Christmas Eve. We usually spend it together."

He momentarily regretted calling, but then realized maybe it would cheer her up. "Yeah, sure. We'll cook something," he replied, realizing then that he had no idea what to cook. He didn't know how to cook a turkey, but he knew he could manage pasta. "Bolognese?"

"Sounds fantastic. Ana and I will bring dessert," Serena replied, leaving Robert to wonder how he'd called for help and somehow instead managed to invite two people over for a dinner he hadn't planned at all. Before he could say anything, though, Serena added, "And I strongly suspect that whatever's bugging her will pass. She'd tell you if it was important or concerned you, really. Not that I'm overly crazy about the idea, but she loves you."

"Thanks," he said, somewhat grudgingly.

"Just ask her what's on her mind." And before he could say he had already asked, she added, "But ask her like you actually want to _hear_ the answer."

Oh, he thought, realizing that he'd been asking simply to make himself feel like he was trying, and always gave up when she just replied with an unconvincing _Nothing_. "Okay. I'll try," he finally replied. "See you guys tomorrow night."

Melora had been at the house for less than a week, and seemed to be recovering well from her surgery. But aside from that, her sense of humor seemed to have disappeared. Her normally animated chatter had been replaced by long brooding silences that Robert was having difficulty cracking. What was going on? Was his friendship with Lizzie actually bothering her more than it should? She didn't seem like the overly sensitive type, but then, he was hardly one to judge what was normal for a woman. Had some old boyfriend from her past reappeared? Hard to say without asking, and harder still to ask.

Robert resigned at last to take Serena's advice and make a sincere effort at drawing out whatever was eating at Melora. He came home to find her sitting on the sofa in the living room in front of the fire with Gretel and a glass of Syrah. One of his best bottles, he noted, wisely opting to let it slide. "Hey. You okay?"

Melora shrugged silently, offering him a small smile. "Yeah."

 _This again_ , he thought. "Enough with the long brooding silences, Heathcliff," he told her. "What's going on?"

Melora took a long sip of wine. "Serena brought my mail."

"How sad," he deadpanned. "And?" He set down his briefcase by the door and, having hung up my coat on the rack, joined her on the sofa. He took the letter she held out to him and glanced at it. It was the same letter Serena had mentioned: a rejection from the Music Conservatory.

"Oh." he said, knowing this wasn't the only thing that was bothering her. This letter just came today and didn't account for all the previous sad looks. "I didn't realize you were applying for anything."

Melora shrugged. "I can't wait tables forever. And it would be nice to actually have something steady that has health insurance."

Robert nodded. It was tough to argue with that. "Well, what the hell do you want to teach for? You're a born performer, Melora. People love coming to hear you play and sing. Don't waste your talent teaching. Take it from one who is constantly teaching – it's a thankless profession." He was grasping at straws. _Thank you, Serena_ , he thought sarcastically, _for bringing the mail at such an otherwise happy moment in Melora's life._

She managed a small smile and moved over to lean against him, making him feel somewhat less useless than he'd been feeling. He slipped an arm around her. "You've been awfully distant lately. Since Friday, actually."

Melora looked at him and sighed. "I know I keep saying it's nothing. It probably sounds like something though, huh?"

"Mere coincidence?" he asked. "We're less than a month away from our one year anniversary, you know. Time for deep thoughts and all that?"

Her eyes widened briefly, and Robert realized then that she'd forgotten. Or at least, it wasn't on her current radar.

"Wow. You forgot?" he asked, honestly a little relieved that he remembered before she did. Finally, he had won some leverage in the complex game of being in a long-term relationship! "Who's insensitive now?"

She sighed, much less defensively than he felt she might have at least feigned, and grinned, "Come on. I definitely would have remembered in time. Probably." She looked at him quizzically, as if a thought was occurring to her for the first time. "Did you…did you think I was unhappy with you?"

How to reply to that, he wondered. If he said yes, he might sound guilty because why else would he think she should be. If he said no, then he risked sounding over-confident. The only thing left was the truth. "I didn't know what the hell to think, Mel. You're brooding all over the place like a heroine in a Chekov play. So the first place my mind goes is, you must have come to your senses and decided you can get a younger, better-looking tattooed rock and roll guy and you're just waiting for the right time to dump me."

For the first time in days, Melora smiled genuinely and laughed a little. "Did you just say, 'rock and roll guy'?" She actually looked grateful for the laugh. "Oh my God, I have to remember that! 'Rock and roll guy'."

He had to admit, that did sound rather lame. "You know what I mean," he huffed, deciding to commit to owning the phrase, "And, by the way, said rock and roll guy could not have nearly the stamina a certain surgeon does."

She giggled some more at this, and it was like music to his ears. But then she threw him a reproachful look and locked his eyes in her gaze, saying in all seriousness. "Robert Romano. Dr. Romano."

"Yes, Ms. Weir?" It's an old game they played, but it had been a while since they'd run the routine. Still, he felt as if he knew what she was about to say, and that made huge strides towards reassuring about the status of his place in her heart.

"Doctor Robert 'the Rocket' Romano." There was a bit of a smile threatening to break out at the corner of her mouth, but she managed to keep a straight face. "What did I say to you, that first night at the club?"

"So, so many things, Ms. Weir." He decided that she didn't need to know that half the time she was talking, he'd been debating whether he should try to get an actual date with her. And the other half, he'd honestly felt as if he'd just been staring at her.

"Come on, you know this one. You asked if you could see me again, and I said, of course. And you asked, 'Why?' And I said…." She trailed off.

It was true – he did know this one. "Because I'm 'different.'" He looked at her then, remembering everything about that moment in time. It smelled like stale cigarettes and spilled beer in that nightclub, but she was all he saw worth noting. She was wearing a Victorian outfit and playing a cello. And yet, _she_ was the one telling _him_ that _he_ was the one who was different. And in that context, he supposed he was. "You said I may not want to admit it, but I was a good man."

This recitation pleased her. She took both of his hands, sitting cross-legged there on the sofa, and leaned in until their foreheads were touching. "And how many rock and roll guys, as you put it, are good men, let alone good men who save lives and keep an institution going that saves many lives every day, and yet still make time to run down and get a muffin from the cafeteria for their ailing girlfriend at the drop of a hat? How many take responsibility seriously enough to care to see that the work gets done, even though it means they're not popular? How many of them would ever be able to win me away from you just by looking dangerously handsome and having a shiny motorcycle and maybe being able to quote Lord fucking Byron like some overwrought teenager?"

"Ummmm – zero, I hope."

"Correct." She kissed him at last before leaning back, adding, "You know I have no problem telling you when I'm unhappy with you, right?"

"True."

"So the answer is no, Robert. This has absolutely nothing to do with you. Sometimes, women just get sad, is all."

"Don't try and pass this off as a 'woman thing'," he told her, determined to get to the truth of it. "I have your cycles carefully documented specifically to avoid confusion."

This, at least, got another laugh from her. "Seriously though, Robert. Not everything has to do with you."

Where had he heard that before? "You and Serena spend too much time together."

She looked at him quizzically. "Huh?" She crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the fireplace, where it crackled and quickly burned. "Ah, well. It's not the first rejection letter I've ever gotten. And I'm sure it won't be the last."

"You're a sub for first chair cello with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, for God's sake, Melora," he told her. "And you're up for second chair with the Opera. So who gives a shit if the Conservatory wants to get some intern in there for free instead of a skilled and experienced musician?"

She bobbed her head side to side then, weighing this. "Keep talking."

"A skilled and experienced musician who's been depressing the hell out of me lately."

Back to the furrowed brow. "Huh?" She sat up on her knees, causing Gretel to hop down to the floor and settle down in front of the fire.

"You got a letter today. We agree it's not the end of the world. So what's been eating at you this week? Is the room service not to your liking? Be honest – is it my shampoo?"

She had to laugh at the last bit, and contemplated her wine glass before finishing and refilling it, offering it to him. He accepted it and had some. _Christ, I may as well_ , he thought. _I spent enough on it._ "Oh, it's noth-"

"And if you say `nothing,' I will not be held responsible for my actions."

She shook her head and said, "Well, okay. On Friday, my cousin Kitty came to the hospital to see me." She saw he wasn't sure what that meant, and added, "I hadn't seen her since I was 12. Her dad's my dad's brother, and we stayed with them after Mom and Ben died. And so it was just – weird. I know she meant well, and it was nice to know that they were looking out for me, even if it was covertly."

Robert wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. "So what happened?"

"Nothing much," Melora replied. "But it did something strange to me. It brought back all these feelings I thought I'd put behind me, or at least gotten used to feeling. It was kind of like the first time you really feel let down by a grown up, when you're a kid. Like really disappoints you, for the first time in your life, in a way that never even occurred to you was possible. The first big ouch. And you have a hard time with that because it feels so hurtful, so personal."

She tried to keep a brave face, but Robert could see all those things she was talking about were still there for her. She said, her voice cracking a little, "I mean, I'd really thought that they'd come for me after Dad died, even though I was 17 and legally almost an adult. I really had. I'd even had a dream that Ben came and said everything would be okay. That they'd come and take me and see that I got out of the South Side okay. I wanted to believe that it was some kind of voice-from-beyond thing, I really did!"

She smiled ruefully, even though her eyes were full of tears. Robert felt bad then for waiting for so long to really ask her what was wrong, and for being worried that it had been about Lizzie. He could see now that even if she'd heard the rumors, none of it came close to mattering to her. "But when none of them came for me and the only thing that happened was the State emancipated me a year early, it just kind of made it all real. Mom and Ben were dead. Ben wasn't going to be my ghost pal or anything; it was just a dream that I wanted to be true but wasn't. Dad was dead. And damned if anyone else in the family cared."

"I'm sorry," he finally said, knowing that if he said anything reassuring about her family's intentions, it would be met with a cynicism even greater than his. "I know I'm no ghost pal or anything, but for what it's worth, I love you."

"I know you do, Robert. I love you, too." She kissed him softly, and then he knew he wasn't about to get dumped. "Even if you do occasionally hug pretty surgeons." She gave him a sly look then, and he realized she had heard the story after all, but as expected, it didn't really matter in the larger scheme of things.

"Guilty as charged. But at least said surgeon no longer hates me, so that's something."

Melora just shook her head, dismissing the entire topic. "No, that? It really is nothing, Robert. We both have friends of the opposite sex. We're adults. We can handle it." She looked back at the fire, and then back at him again. "This is going to sound crazy, but when Kitty visited me, it actually made me kind of nostalgic. Not just for old times with our families, but for my old neighborhood. Not Wisconsin, but the South Side. And _that_ is weird."

He squinted at her. "Nostalgic for what, exactly? Having to sneak through your neighborhood hoping no one saw you walking home, or for the lack of food? If you're missing ramen noodles, I can run out to the Circle K." She'd told him a lot of stories about those old days, and not many of them included an abundance of safety or food. She was a small woman and had been an even smaller girl, making her dependent on her speed, wits, and the kindness of strangers to help her survive as an iconoclastic individual in an already divided neighborhood.

"Don't you dare," Melora grinned again. "But I had my friends, and we all were there for one another. We all helped each other out, however we could." She burrowed against him then, and he could almost see the weight lifting from her shoulders. "I guess it's all we can do - help each other as best we can." She looked up at him; she knew his story already, and that he couldn't do much more than nod, just a little.

"You've got me, Mel. You'll always have me."

Melora smiled, saying, "I know. Thanks for saying it, though. Don't worry – I'm not going anywhere." Thinking about the past week, she cringed a bit and offered, "Sorry for being Captain Bringdown lately. You really have been taking excellent care of me."

"This is true. Speaking of which, you really aren't supposed to have alcohol yet."

"No!" she told him, perking up. "It's been just over ten days since the surgery. No more antibiotics."

"Yeah, but you're still a long ways from shoveling snow," he told her, receiving a big laugh from her and reassuring him that Melora's Blue Period was finally coming to a close.

Christmas Eve dinner was a smash hit with the Roommate Contingent. Robert's somewhat-secret family recipe for Bolognese sauce wowed them all, and they stuffed themselves with garlic bread and sliced, breaded and fried cardoon (pronounced "garduna" if you were New York Italian), which the women agreed was the best-kept Italian secret EVER. Robert had shook his head at this, before serving up Sicilian rice balls. "No, _this_ is the best kept Sicilian secret, along with real pan pizza. Only it's all over Long Island, so it might not be that big of a secret."

"Can we always have Italian Christmas, Robert?" Melora inquired as they all relaxed with wine in the living room. "It's so much yummier than boring old turkey!"

"Sure," he told them. "But what you had tonight? It's nothing compared to what my aunt – my dad's sister - used to pull off. The Feasts of Natale, it was called, and involved, at a _minimum,_ seven fish dishes. You really had to pace yourself if you were to make it through the whole thing."

"Seven fish dishes?!" Serena looked almost scared. "What the hell?"

Robert chuckled a little. "If you were hardcore – and we were not – you'd do twelve fish dishes. One for each apostle or something like that. But we haven't done the seven fish dishes thing for years. After my dad died, we sort of drifted away from that side of the family. And I never got the knack for cooking seafood properly. Takes a lot of practice, I guess."

"Damn!" Melora grinned, leaning against him now and tucking her feet beneath her for warmth. "You put all my family traditions to shame!" She looked at the tree by the window, which she suspected Robert had brought home and decorated to improve her mood. It had worked.

Ana gave Melora a curious look, as if to ask what traditions. Melora shrugged. "Well, back in Wisconsin, all the family would come into town and spend the night for Christmas Eve. Which naturally meant Cousinpalooza and a very difficult time getting to sleep. I think there were 15 of us Christmas morning, and eight of us were kids. Aunt Ginny always made gin fizzes for the grown-ups, and cocoa for us kids."

Ana smiled, making a rare verbal request. "Tell him about the line!"

Robert squinted at Ana and Melora. "What line?"

"Okay, so this may sound…well, extremely German, which admittedly my family is. But for as long as I could recall, Christmas mornings had a strict routine to how they started. I think it must have started because without some basic rules, we kids would have destroyed the house before any parents were awake. So our oldest cousin, Wayne, was in charge of overseeing the official start of Christmas. There was some set time that we couldn't get up before - I think it was 7:30. He would get up first and plug in the lights on the tree and then shut the hall door going into the living room so no one could see the presents early – all part of building the suspense." She rolled her eyes. "Then he would round up the rest of us kids, and we would actually have to LINE UP and use the bathroom so as not to disturb the present-opening process later. The Weirs and Murphys took Christmas very seriously."

"Jesus Christ!" Robert laughed. "Did you grow up in the Von Trapp family or something?" Ana let out a laugh at that, joined by Melora and Serena.

"Hey, we were hardcore into Christmas in the Weir household." She looked at the tree, remembering. "Then we'd have to line up at the hallway doors - I'm not kidding, the rules were very well-defined – until the grown-ups were at least getting up." She looked at the lights twinkling on the Christmas tree, reminded of the tree lights back home. The French doors in the hallway had wooden slats that let some of the tree lights shine through, hinting at all the wonder and excitement hidden behind them.

Melora grinned. "But once those doors were opened, all hell broke loose and the rules went right out the window. All I remember after that is a haze of chocolate, music, flying wrapping paper, kids yelling, and hung-over sleepy grown-ups moaning on the sofa," Melora grinned. "Sometimes they would make me play Christmas carols on the cello, but back then I don't think I was too terribly skilled in that department."

Serena, reclining on the floor petting a blissed-out Gretel, chuckled. "Well, I can't envision us ever lining up for anything in our own home. But we can at least revive the gin fizzes tradition. Only can we use vodka instead? Because gin is nasty."

"You got it," Melora agreed. "Next year."

Robert slipped an arm around Melora. "Or we can start a tradition of vodka fizzes on Christmas morning here." He looked over at their guests. "Come on – you don't think I'm sending you back to the city tonight, do you? After all that food and wine?"

"Yayyyy!" Serena cheered. "Christmas in the 'burbs!"

Melora looked at Robert as if he'd lost his mind. "Really?"

He looked as if this had been his plan all along, but the truth was, he was happy to see her enjoying herself and laughing again. "Maybe it's time to replace old traditions with new ones." And old family, long gone, with new family.

TBC


	7. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

**What Lies Beneath**

Chapter 7: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Melora, on her way to her third and final physical therapy appointment for her left arm, stopped by the ER to say hello to Abby. She didn't see Abby at first, but did see Carter and Malucci near the admit counter. She hesitated at first, recalling her last visit with Malucci had ended strangely, but once they saw her, there was no turning back.

Malucci gave her an unconcerned smile, clearly oblivious to having caused any upset at all on her previous visit. And looking back on it, Melora had to admit, it was all quite minor, so she rolled with it. "Hey, Mel! What up?" Malucci greeted, saying to Carter, "I don't think you've met Mel – she's Dr. Romano's girlfriend."

"Who can forget?" Carter replied with a smile. "You were unconscious, but I helped out when you were brought into the ER after your dissection."

"I was dissected?" Melora blinked at them.

"Nah – that's what they call a TAA when it ruptures – a dissection," elaborated Malucci. Melora mused at how this street kid could utter medical jargon and yet still sound like he'd just wandered in off the mean streets. "And genius here thought it was a coronary."

"Well, it presented like one," Carter added in his defense, telling Melora, "Malucci and Dr. Weaver shed light on your case once they saw it was you, and that you'd been in earlier. You look well – I take it Romano's looking after you okay?"

"Yes, he's been taking great care of me," Melora nodded. "And thanks, by the way, for all your good work. It's nice to officially meet you, Dr. Carter." She knew Carter didn't remember her from her very first visit to the ER the night she first met Robert, but why should he? They were never introduced, and to him, she was probably just an anonymous background patient. "I'm just here for some follow-up physical therapy on my arm. I got the green light for playing cello last week, so I've been at it all week. And I've been driving and walking around a lot more; almost all healed up. Even the bruises are finally fading."

"I'd tell you to take it easy and give yourself time to really heal, but I'm sure you hear that at least once a day already," Carter remarked, adding, "Hey, Dave tells me you're in a band? Or did you mean quartet? We've got a bet going on that," he confided.

Malucci said with an eyeroll, "Yeah, he thinks I don't know the difference between rock and classical, apparently. So make me some cash and tell him?"

Melora had a laugh at that. "Ha! Yes, it's true. Well, both are, really. But I'm in a band that, while mostly strings, could be called alternative rock. We're called Metronome. Playing at the Riviera in February, a fairly big show for Valentine's Day." She avoided Carter's eye as she said that, knowing that Valentine's might have a lot of baggage still for him. To Malucci, she said, "You still planning on rounding up the County General Contingent to attend? I could put two of you on the list. Comes with a free drink ticket."

Malucci grinned and nudged Carter, perhaps thinking that this would be a good distraction for his friend on a difficult day. "Free admission and a drink? Hell, yeah! What d'ya say, man? We could round up some of the usual suspects and have some fun."

Carter remained seemingly undisturbed and shrugged. "Why not? We'll see what the schedule's like. It's still a month away."

Melora hadn't expected to be at the heart of an impromptu gathering, let alone to be netting a crowd for her first concert in nearly two months. _Damn_ , she thought. _Better get to practicing._

Dr. Weaver appeared then, and doctors and nurses alike started scattering before she could start assigning busy work. Melora took the hint and headed for the elevator.

After her visit to the ER, Melora went to her final physical therapy appointment and then to Robert's office. They'd planned to grab lunch if his schedule permitted. She saw the door was open a little, and inside stood Elizabeth Corday and a tall man with glasses and a knit cap chatting with Robert, who was leaning casually on his desk. Melora paused, as she wasn't sure if this was a patient.

"Mel!" greeted Robert, beckoning forward. "Come on in. You know Dr. Corday already. This is her fiancé, Mark Greene. He's an attending down in the ER. Mark, this is my girlfriend, Melora."

"Hello," greeted Mark with a smile, and Melora smiled back when she realized she wasn't interrupting a patient visit.

"Hi!" Melora said with a smile. "I was just down in the ER earlier, visiting with everyone."

"I'm not working there right now; I've been on medical leave for the past few weeks. I hear we should start a club?" He glanced at Elizabeth, who smiled and nodded.

Melora remembered that she'd heard Elizabeth was going through tough times, and when Mark mentioned he'd been on medical leave, she thought maybe that was related. He seemed quite well, but as she looked closer, she thought she saw signs of a bandage hidden under his cap, and a gaunt look that didn't seem quite right on him. "Definitely! We both seem to have landed on our feet. But are you as bored as I am?"

"Yes," he groaned. "I still have another few weeks before I can get back to work. You?"

"Same," Melora replied. "At least I can play my cello again now. And I can finally drive myself around and climb stairs and do things other than shuffle back and forth between bed and the sofa and the kitchen."

"Mark and Lizzie don't live too far away from us," Robert said, inadvertently saying 'us' instead of 'me', but letting it slide. To Elizabeth and Mark, he added, "I'm in Glencoe. You two should come for dinner."

Elizabeth looked surprised by the invitation. "Seriously? You want to have us over?"

Robert was feeling generous, although the surprise registering on the others' faces made him hesitate for just a moment before speaking. "Sure, why not? Look, it's been a stressful time for everyone. I don't know about you guys, but New Year's was sort of a bust this year. Maybe a Late New Year's is in order. So what are you guys up to this weekend?"

Melora was nearly as surprised as Elizabeth and Mark appeared to be, but not wanting to scare this kinder, gentler version of Robert away, she quickly jumped on the Dinner Bandwagon. "Oh, yes, please come over!" She laughed then, adding, "Did that sound like I'm desperate for company? Because I'm not. But still…it would be nice to have something to dress for other than doctor appointments." She looked to Mark, adding, "Slippers are welcome, if it helps."

Elizabeth laughed warmly, adding, "No! No more slippers outside the home, please." She raised her eyebrows at Mark. "What do you think? A little dinner out?"

"A Romano dinner is not to be missed," Melora added. "Maybe I'll finally get to learn some of his culinary secrets."

"You may," Robert told her, adding, "But you have to actually come into the kitchen and help if you want to learn anything."

"Details!" Melora rolled her eyes. "It'll be fun. I never learned how to – how do you say it – ' _cook'_? My forte is in the ordering delivery department."

"You and me both," Mark said, looking pleasantly perplexed. Elizabeth had told him that she and Romano had mended fences and he'd been suspicious up to this point. But now that he'd met the possible cause of Romano's smoothed edges, he was beginning to get on board. "If Lizzie says yes, then who am I to say no?"

"Yeah!" Melora cheered, happy to have something fun to look forward to. "I didn't realize until just now how much I've missed being around people. I love Hotel Romano – it really is like a spa vacation there – but with the Romano part being at work most of the time, I was going a little stir crazy."

Mark seemed to understand exactly what she was talking about. "Maybe we really _should_ start a club. Have you gotten sucked into watching soap operas?"

"I hate to admit it, but yes. _All My Children,_ with a _One Life to Live_ chaser. You?"

" _General Hospital_ , of course," he laughed. "And a really sad addiction to old _Perry Mason_ reruns. Okay – I'm sold. Saturday?"

Robert and Elizabeth exchanged glances – apparently, their significant others were getting on like a house on fire. "Saturday it is," Robert agreed. "Six o'clock?"

Once the time was set, the two couples parted ways, leaving Robert and Melora to head out for lunch at a nice place near the square. In his car, Melora gave Robert a questioning look. "So, not to sound like I don't think you're a wonderful person normally, but…"

"Why am I being so nice to work people?" Robert filled in for her as he maneuvered through the traffic. "I don't know. I guess I'm just seeing that life is full of close calls. And after what Elizabeth and Mark have been through, they deserve to be cut a little slack. Also…you're doing very well. One might even say, _snow-shovelingly_ well."

Melora had a laugh at that. "You know what? I think I might be." The smile travelled straight to her eyes then, and she added in her best Elizabeth Corday voice, "I'll have to just listen to what my body tells me."

"Don't even do that to me here," he only half-joked. "Or I'm taking us straight home. Screw lunch. Literally."

"You've got surgery after lunch, huh?" Melora asked, and he nodded. "Okay, I'll try to be super unsexy for all of lunch. Umm… YOUR MOM. There, how's that?"

"That's a very strong start," he admitted. "What else have you got?"

"Okay, moldy bread? Killer clowns? Dog poop? Is that good enough, or should I just start blowing my nose loudly?"

"Ugh, no. Mission accomplished." He told her as they neared their destination. "For now."

Robert returned home to a sound he was getting used to: a cello being played in the study. Today, it was the Bach Cello Suite, which he'd learned was Melora's go-to for practice right after running the scales. Wanting to get Gretel taken care of, he fed her and made sure the doggie door was unlocked before joining Melora in the study.

He was pleasantly surprised to see that she'd even dressed up for him – it was an outfit he recognized – a new corset replacing the one that had been ruined the night they met, but the rest was the same. Victorian bloomers, a gauzy skirt over that, masses of white-blond curls piled atop her head…even make-up. She'd been recuperating and housebound for so long he'd almost forgotten how ridiculously well she cleaned up. "Hello," he greeted her with a smile as she set aside her cello and bow. "You're expecting someone?" he joked. "Because I can come back later…"

She smiled a sly smile of her own and stood. "Wanna shovel some snow?"

He didn't need any further invitation. He was standing close enough to her that in no time, he'd pulled her to him, inhaling her scent and finally knowing that nothing was going to get in their way. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. "You need to ask?"

It took them very little time to make it to the bedroom and toss aside all carefully chosen garments in favor of feeling the warmth of one another's skin. Melora had missed all of this while her body healed, but in a way, that just reminded her of the passion they were still very capable of conjuring. As they settled in together on the bed, he kissed the spot on the side of her neck he knew made her melt, and he felt her hands on him and felt her sigh and move her body against his. Some things, he thought, would never get old.

They moved perfectly together, enjoying each other over and over, with a few much-needed breathers. They'd had more than enough time to miss one another, and now, as they lay collapsed in each other's arms in bed quite a while later – spent for now, at least – they caught their breath.

"How are you?" Robert asked her, a hint of doctorly concern in his voice.

She chuckled softly at that, resting her head on his chest. She looked up at him. "I'm awesome. How are you?"

He grinned, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Really, though. No chest pain or anything? Back pain? Any pain?"

"Absolutely no pain. At all," she assured him, kissing his chin. "You may stop being a doctor now. I promise I'll let you know if I feel any sort of pain. But right now, all I feel is pleased that the drought is over."

"That makes two of us," he agreed, enjoying the sensation of having her pressed against him and not having to just say good night or sleep well. "I missed you, Mel."

"I know what you mean. I missed you, too." Nobody made her melt like Robert did. He could draw her to him with nothing more than a look.

His tone changed a little. "Hey, did I actually invite Lizzie and Greene over for dinner Saturday?"

"You did," Melora grinned, shifting onto her side, facing him with a teasing look. "So what're you cooking for us?"

" _We_ will think of something," he replied, groaning, "See what sex deprivation does to me? Temporary insanity!"

"I would have thought it would make you grumpy, not pleasant."

"Oh, believe me, I'm plenty grumpy. The nurses have noticed it and have been asking after your recovery pretty consistently for the past two weeks. Besides, it was the prospect of things to come that prompted it. I saw you walk into my office and…I don't know. I just wanted to make you keep smiling." He laid his hand on her hip and leaned over to kiss her gently.

She smiled contentedly. "Job well done, sir. Care to continue? I've lots of smiling to catch up on."

He pulled her closer, needing no encouragement. He didn't care about Saturday's dinner or even what the next day held. He just wanted to make love to her. And that was just what he did.

They were all lingering at the dinner table, having enjoyed a lavish dinner. Melora was enjoying herself, although she was trying to be mindful of her wine consumption, since their guests could not have more than a splash of wine each. Mark took a bit more with dinner, confiding he could have wine, but since his cancer treatments sapped him of his energy, he kept it to just a glass. And since Elizabeth was pregnant, she had club soda instead, confessing that pregnancy killed her desire for wine.

This interested Melora. "Really? It changes your appetite?"

Elizabeth nodded. "It does. I find liquor and coffee particularly disgusting, which I suppose is a blessing. And if I so much as smell Chinese food, I feel instantly ill. Anything pungent becomes magnified in strength."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, that's fun. I end up eating in the car on my way home half the time."

Melora made a face. "Wow. Life without coffee or wine, let alone Chinese food…" She shrugged. "I don't think I could pull it off. Besides, I think I like sleeping too much to really make it as a mom." She glanced at Robert; she'd always assumed he was not interested in children, but maybe he was. She was not. At least, not now. Considering her family history, she'd never felt a desire for them, and truth be told, the idea scared more than appealed to her. And she thought that Robert was far too busy with work right now to consider it.

Elizabeth chuckled a little at Melora's statement. "I'm already used to not sleeping as much as I should. I'm Associate Chief of Surgery, after all."

As the evening stretched on, they traded more stories, including Robert and Melora's first meeting and trip to the ER a year previous.

"You were in the ER?" Mark asked. "I must not have been there. I think I'd remember you."

"I was there, but tucked away in an exam room and sort of on the hush-hush, since it was on Robert's dime." Melora said. "Oh, wait, I think you _were_ there, actually. But we weren't introduced." She remembered more about the aftermath of the trauma Robert had aided in Greene's absence, and added, "You'd been 'on a remote' or words to that effect. Terse words were spoken, if I recall correctly."

Mark winced, but with a bit of a smile, remembering. "Terse words are spoken every day in the ER. It's just part of the scenery."

"I'd apologize, but then I'd have to do it all the time," Robert added, glad that Mark didn't seem affected much by Robert's work persona.

"So, Robert swept you off your sprained ankle and into his life?" Elizabeth asked. She wondered just how that transition worked.

"Something like that," Melora chuckled. "I think we both were a little conflicted by the end of that evening. We're from very different walks of life, but beneath the superficialities, we have similar approaches to living. Neither one of us suffer fools gladly, and we're pretty up-front people. Is that always awesome? Probably not. But at least we're both honest."

"To a fault, on occasion," Elizabeth remarked with a smile at the couple. She was starting to understand what they were about and what they shared. And when she looked at Mark, she felt that for herself and her fiancé, as well. "Has Robert never shared the story of how he brought Gretel into the OR for surgery?"

"Wait, seriously?" Melora giggled.

"Why does this surprise you?" Robert asked. "You know she's my only child."

"And I love the both of you. I just would have thought that if a surgeon isn't supposed to operate on one they love…"

"Jealous?" he grinned at her, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'm just saying…" Melora teased, looking at Elizabeth and sighing. "That must have been something. Are doggie insides that similar to a human's?"

"No!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "They're not at all similar. But there's a heart, and lungs, and for the most part it was fairly straightforward."

Robert added, "She's omitting the part where I put my foot it in with Elizabeth's mother." To Mark and Melora, he explained, "She was visiting that day and mentioned she was on her way to a lecture on lasers. I suggested she go shopping rather than bore herself with such a topic."

"I think you may have used the word 'gobbledygook' in reference to the lecture," Elizabeth added, and Melora started straight-up laughing.

Mark laughed. "Let me guess – she was giving the lecture?"

"Yup." Robert grinned, seeming oddly satisfied with this achievement. "If looks could kill…."

"'Gobbledygook'?" Melora gave Robert a fond yet pitying look. "You didn't!" She rolled her eyes at him. "And I thought you were doing _so well_ at not making sweeping assumptions based on gender."

Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder at what she was seeing here tonight, and about what might have been had she considered Robert's courtship of her years ago. But perhaps it took Mel, specifically, to bring this out in him. She knew that Mark did so for her. All was for the best, she thought, as they retired to the living room for tea and biscotti.

Melora and Mark started talking music as they selected an album to put on the stereo; Mark had gravitated towards an early Rolling Stones release. Melora smiled widely at the selection, explaining, "I've been working on adapting a cover of 'She Smiled Sweetly.'"

"No kidding!" He seemed genuinely pleased by this, and grinned. "Can you play some of it? I'd love to hear it."

"Sure. Cello's in the library. I don't really have it all worked out yet, but maybe you can tell me what works and what doesn't?" She nodded towards Robert. "He always tells me he loves it."

"That's because I do," Robert replied, nodding at her to go ahead.

"We'll be back in a minute." Melora didn't like to make captive audience members of guests, but figured since Mark actually asked, she could bend her rule this time.

Robert watched as Melora, clearly excited to have a new person to talk music with, led Mark off towards the library. He looked to Elizabeth, remarking, "No one can accuse her of being shy, at least." He wondered how Elizabeth was really doing, beneath her strong surgeon exterior. "Looks like you guys are doing well."

Elizabeth glanced down briefly, composing herself in a way that Robert recognized because he himself had done the same for a lifetime. "We're optimistic," she said with the smile one gives to those with no idea of what is really happening.

Robert shook his head with a look that said he wasn't going to let her off so easy. "C'mon, Lizzie," he said. "You can't bullshit the Master Bullshit Artist. How's it really going?"

At first, Elizabeth was taken aback, not by Robert's ability to see through her polite answer but by his calling her out on it. Most people recognized the party line when they heard it but didn't press her for details. Robert Romano however...well, as he said, he knew a line when he heard it. "Do you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't," he readily replied. "You know I don't fake concern. It doesn't help anyone."

"Well then," Elizabeth began, her tired smile giving way to something akin to exhaustion. She leaned back against the sofa, shoulders slumped. "Just remember - you asked for it."

He nodded. "Fair enough."

Elizabeth shook her head in exasperation. "The truth? Every day is a battle. A battle for time, for better health, for the universe to cut us a bit of slack. For Mark to get the chance to see his child born. He says we can be selfish now. 'God owes us one,' were his exact words, actually."

Robert nodded, feeling that he was now getting the real story. "He's right," he told her. "But it's not like you can afford to be selfish all the time. He's sick. He needs to be selfish. It's expected. You're pregnant, and it's still kind of a secret, right?"

Elizabeth nodded glumly. "For another few weeks, until we get into the next trimester."

Robert raised his eyebrows, as if she had just made his point for him. "So, how are _you_ coping?"

Elizabeth's shoulders dropped, as if she'd been carrying the weight of a thousand people on them and now someone had offered to help. Tears formed in her eyes and she swiped at them with her fingers. Her voice wavered a little as she struggled even now to hang onto control. "How? I don't know how. By crying quietly in the restroom at work? All I know is I have to be here, be present, and be strong, not just for me and Mark, but for our baby."

"Hey, whatever works. I'd say maybe think about taking some time off together. To get that rest that you need to keep being everyone's rock. A weekend away, even."

She looked up at Robert, saying, "A holiday? What will that change?"

"Nothing. But it might give you a chance to recharge and rest. To maybe not worry for a brief period of time."

Elizabeth seemed to consider it now. "It may actually help, when you put it that way. I have to be so many things that it's hard to remember who I even am."

Robert looked at her, understanding what she meant. He'd been there, albeit for different reasons and to a lesser degree. " _I_ can tell you _that_."

"Oh?" Elizabeth steadied herself for a Romano-ism then, and looked at him.

"You're Elizabeth Goddamn Corday, that's who you are. And you will run roughshod over anything or anyone stupid or clumsy enough to interfere with you and yours. Speaking from personal experience, here."

Elizabeth half-laughed, half-sobbed at that statement, wanting to believe it. "I'm just so bloody tired, Robert!"

He nodded, leaning forward a little so she'd hear him - really hear him. "You do realize that you're surrounded by people who want to help you, right?"

"I don't want sympathy," Elizabeth said dismissively.

"Just tea then? Hold the sympathy?" He sighed, struggling for a moment to find the right words. "I've never been a touchy-feely sort of guy. And I don't think you are, either. But speaking for myself, and maybe some other people in your life, sometimes you need to accept help when it's offered."

"Oh, as if you would ever accept help!" Elizabeth snorted with a smile, dabbing away the last of her threatened tears with a tissue.

"When it's really important, of course I would, and have. I asked you to operate on Mel, didn't I? I didn't want Benton or Dale messing around in there. Mel's insides needed to matter to her surgeon. She's not a simple aortic dissection to whip through in order to get back to golf or a kid or whatever those guys obsess over in their down time. I wanted you to do it because I know you give a damn about the patient. I asked you, and you did it, despite every shitty thing we've put each other through. I knew you would be there for the patient, and you were." He tried again. "So, on those days when you feel like you've taken the very last sucker-punch from life or God or whatever, and you need someone's help, I just want you to know that there's a lot of people who are rooting for you. I'm one of them. I actually _want_ to help." He winced a little as he heard the words fall from his mouth. "And I hate saying it, so please don't wait for me to offer it again."

Elizabeth was touched that this man whom she'd been at odds with for so long was reaching out to her, without any hidden personal agenda or strings attached. She reached out, at first to just pat his arm, but that felt so inadequate that she ended up hugging him. "Thank you, Robert."

He was a little less surprised this time, and simply hugged her back, thinking just how odd it was that they'd finally reached this level of comfort, now that they were both firmly planted in relationships with other people. Maybe this was what was needed to allow their friendship to take root, he thought. "Hang in there, Lizzie."

Lizzie released him, meeting his gaze and joking, "Who are you and what have you done with the real Robert Romano? You know, the one who always expects a kind gesture to be repaid threefold?"

Robert had to chuckle at that. "That guy? He aged about ten years in one night about a month ago," he told her.

"You've mellowed with age and mental anguish, then?" she said.

"It happens to the best of us, Lizzie. You'll see." He offered her another tissue from the box on a nearby table, and she accepted it. "So if you need someone to vent to, consider me rather than an empty stall in the ladies' room. If nothing else, I listen better."

Melora and Mark rejoined them soon after, deep in discussion about current music genres, although both picked up on the vibe that Serious Things had been discussed in their absence. Later on, after their company had left for the evening and the clean-up was finished, Robert and Melora settled in on the comfy sofa in the den with the last of the evening's wine.

Relieved that she could really dig into her wine at last and not have to worry that she might say something stupid, Melora remarked, "That was really nice. Mark's a sweet guy – I can see why Elizabeth likes him."

"He does have his charms," admitted Robert. "And he's a solid trauma doctor. If he makes a full recovery, it'll be good to get him back in the ER. Lewis and Kovac are good, but they need him as an attending for balance."

"Did you two have a good talk?" Melora asked him, curious as to what he would say.

"Yeah. She's possibly more stubborn and resistant to asking for help than me."

Melora donned a look of mock surprise. "I don't think that's possible!"

Robert looked at his glass of wine, lost in thought for a moment. "Yeah. It's kind of built into the surgeon's DNA, I think. Asking for help is a sign of weakness, and most of your colleagues are waiting for a chance to swoop in and take advantage. At least, that's what I'd do. Maybe not so much anymore. But it's a legitimate concern. Hopefully she knows she doesn't have to worry about that with me."

Melora looked at him as if studying him. Every time she thought she understood him, he'd show her some aspect of his personality that she hadn't realized was there. "You think he won't make it," she observed sadly. He was usually right about these things.

He looked up, surprised by how quickly and easily she picked up on it. He decided denying it was pointless, and shrugged. "It's just that it's GBM. There's a very, very low survival rate, even with early detection. Once it's there, it's going to spread, no matter what. That's why most surgeons won't operate – too much risk for too little benefit. But…hey, I hope I'm wrong. And if I'm right, maybe he's still got a year or maybe a year and a half left in him. That's a pretty great prognosis, compared to what it was a few weeks ago. By the time most people get diagnosed, they're down to weeks, not months or years."

Melora felt a pang of sadness then. "But they've got a baby on the way." She thought of Elizabeth's child, not yet born, and imagined what life without a dad might be like. Her own father may have had his problems, but Melora couldn't picture her life or who she'd have been without him. Even though she was the caretaker for much of the latter part of his life, it still gave her purpose and strength.

Robert looked at her; sometimes he forgot how deeply she felt other people's losses. "Sorry. That's how things go sometimes."

"I know," she sighed. "I just wish things didn't always have to be so hard." She leaned against him, and while she felt sad for the struggles that Elizabeth and Mark were facing, she took some comfort in knowing that they still had some time together. "Nobody really knows what's around the corner, or how long they've got."

"Hey." He nudged her, and she looked at him, lost in his eyes again. "Don't go getting all morose on me." He draped an arm across her shoulders, kissing her forehead. "You're supposed to be the lighthearted one, remember?"

She finally smiled. "Really? I don't remember reading that in my girlfriend job description."

"No?" He finished his wine. "Well, we'll have to update it, then." He kissed her, and before he realized what he was saying, he said, "Why don't you move in?"

She blinked a few times as she processed the unexpected proposition. "Move in? Here? Like, with you?"

"Yeah. Well, Gretel, too. Naturally." His eyes searched hers, wondering if he'd overstepped. Was this too soon? Was he letting Elizabeth and Mark's situation influence his actions? But then, he didn't make a habit of saying anything he didn't really feel. It wasn't as if he'd never considered it before.

Melora could see that he was trying to judge if he'd said the wrong thing. He hadn't. She kissed him then, softly, and smiled at him. "Naturally," she echoed. "Of course. I can't think of anyplace I'd rather be."

He kissed her back, sensing that the risk of asking her was worth it for this outcome. "I just want you here with me, as much as possible." Time was fleeting and fate, he knew, had a very twisted sense of humor. "I like coming home and hearing you play or finding you watching a movie or reading or…well, just being here. I know it's a big move, and it's removed from the city. But…"

"But it's got you, and that's a big selling point," Melora said, cutting him off. "Plus, you have way fewer hair products cluttering up the bathroom than Serena does. How can I say no?" She looked into his eyes and saw her future there. She liked what she saw there. It was true that there was no telling what the future held, but that only meant that they should hang onto each moment while they could, and make it really mean something.

THE END…For now!


End file.
